Behind Green Eyes
by AtrumMaximus
Summary: REWRITE IN PROGRESS. THIS VERSION DISCONTINUED. Harry's childhood wasn't quite was everyone was led to believe. Neither was Harry. Dark!Evil!Powerful!Harry HP/LV, HP/SS,minor HP/DM, HP/LM
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and whatever else my depraved mind comes up with. *smirk*

**Disclaimer: **I don't own anyone (would be hot if I did – oh harry in a corset and draco in chains…*drools*) or anything, it's all the big Jo's. Lucky her huh?

**Warnings this chap: **child abuse(of a kind)

**A/N: **This is my first fic ever ! (though I have been a hardcore fanfiction reader for a looong time) and I know it's pretty ambitious to start out with a saga fic like this, but the bunny hunted me down and forced me… First chapter is this, and we'll see if anyone (but me) likes it

**Behind Green Eyes**

AtrumMaximus

This is the story of a boy named Harry Potter.

Now you might think you've heard this story before, so let me just start by admitting that you're right. You have. It wasn't _exactly_ this on though. The one you've heard is a _fairytale_ compared to this one. And thisone is the _real_, the true story.

I don't even know how that other one was even published, but maybe it was the ministries desperate attempt to give the public a 'lighter' side of things, an attempt to keep the image of the savior. Or maybe it was just a witch going delusional and spreading her own little fantasies to the world, in form of an utterly ridiculous book series. And then publishing it with the _muggles _nonetheless. Really I don't know what they were thinking.

But it doesn't matter anyway, because the point is the story_ was wrong_. And this is right. This is the truth, no matter if you want to believe it or not. And I'm only happy to be the one rubbing it in your faces.

So, you all know Harry Potter. And you know how he was orphaned as an infant by the big bad lord Voldemort, suddenly having the status of the Savior of the wizarding world. And surely you know of his miserable childhood with his relatives. Of course the other story jumps elegantly over the years, only briefly mentioning that he wasn't treated very nicely. Well talk about understating. The years with the Dursleys are not something to be ignored. Actually they might be the most important (though not the most interesting) part of this story. Because that was what made Harry who he was.

You are defined by your childhood, you know. It never really leaves you. You might think you're over it, but it hunts you all life, and suddenly when you are 50 you realize that the actions you've taken are directly related to that incident when you where 5.

Too bad that it's too late to take revenge on your parents now, huh? So then it's just up to you to fight the consequences of their mistakes.

Sorry I'm blabbing again now. This isn't about you and _your_ miserable childhood. This is about Harry's. And more importantly the consequences of it.

As you know Dumbledore was the one to make the questionable decision of placing the boy in the care of his muggle relatives, the Dursleys. The Dursleys were the worst type of muggles. They were paranoid and cruel, with a fanatic belief in normality as the key to good life. Petunia – Harry´s aunt – was sister to his witch mother, and she had grown a fierce hatred for magic. Her husband just hated everything that didn't fit in to his perfect little world.

So Harry grew up believing that he was a freak, a monster, an abnormality and that he should be _happy_ about living with the Dursleys. They told him that they were the only ones in the world that cared about him. Not a very happy thought when you consider what kind of care that was that he was abused and ignored on daily basis. The Dursleys used him as their own personal house elf and believed firmly that if he was old enough to walk, and old enough to speak, he sure as hell was old enough to work. And Harry did as he was told. He believed them, because he had not seen any proof of anything else. He was different, he knew it, and with the Dursleys, different was bad, more than bad, _freakish_. And he knew no one cared about him. But that was okay because Harry cared about no one. And as long as he followed the Rules things went smoothly. The definition of smoothly here being; without any injuries sever enough to bother him in his work.

The Rules were the ways of living in the house of the Dursleys. Harry learned them early on, though no one told him of them.

Rule nr. 1: Always do what you're told.

Rule nr. 2: Don't ask any questions.

Rule nr. 3: Be quit when not spoken to.

Rule nr. 4: Avoid anything but the most necessary contact with other people.

And Rule nr. 5, the most important one: _Never_ show that you care. Never show your true emotions.

The last one he learned by force. Crying did not help against the Dursleys. If he cried it only served to annoy them. They would just ignore him, or maybe give him a slap to shut him up if it got too bad. Not to mention crying gave away his weaknesses, so that they could always use them against him on a later event. Also if he showed any happiness or just good mood he could be almost certain to lose whatever it was that brought it out. If he showed anger, the only thing he got was mocking and more punishment. Couldn't have him rebel against them. After all, as they reminded him, they were the only ones that would care about a freak like him.

Soon Harry Potter became very good at not caring. He showed no emotion, no reaction and never gave away his thoughts. He was in all ways passive on the outside. At first it frustrated the Dursleys, Vernon especially. But then he just stopped trying to hurt the boy emotionally. The freak was probably just very stupid, maybe brain damaged or something. Instead he did his punishments physically. That also gave him the satisfaction of seeing the results for a while after.

¤ØØØ¤

It was about age 4 that Harry began using magic consciously. Not in the way adult wizards do of course, but still with a very clear control of it. He had had a few cases of accidental magic before that – each of course resulting in beatings – and they had showed him that his abilities was, though not something to be spoken about, very useful in tight situations. He had levitated things, healed his injuries, blown things up and all around defended himself against Dudley's and Vernon's antics. All only in extreme situations though, when his fear over won his common sense. After all, any weird stuff happening would only anger his uncle more. So he found out to only use his magic when really necessary, and definitely never talk about it, or in any way show that he had a clue what was going on. That would be asking for it.

That didn't stop him from using _it_ when by himself though. He would sit up in his cupboard at night, and practice little things with his magic, delighting in every little development. It became his private pleasure, and in a way, the proof he needed that he was indeed special. That maybe the Dursleys was right, he _was _a freak, but it didn't matter what they thought, because he wasn't like them anyway.

When Harry started muggle elementary school, he was already able to read and write floatingly, a skill learned from cooking books and out of necessity, levitate things around, summon things to him, recognize all the plants in petunias garden, heal small injuries, cook a brilliant soufflé, clean the entire house in 3 hours and cast notice-me-not charms and small glamours without thinking about it.

He didn't show any of this to the teachers though, as he had very clear instructions from his uncle to keep a low profile. And he didn't really need their approval anyway. He was quite bored in class, sitting in the back, silently watching the teacher and the students. When given assignments he always gave in answers just below average. Wouldn't do to look smarter than Dudley.

He also made sure to keep his distance to the other children. Dudley and his gang helped him there, threatening everyone with beatings if they talked to him, but really Harry didn't mind much. They were not like him anyways. They were childish and stupid; they couldn't talk about anything interesting. They were just like the Dursleys.

And Harry wasn't. He was _special_.

¤ØØØ¤

Harry began reading a lot. He didn't care that most of the children in his class, didn't even know the letters yet, it was the only thing interesting at school: the library. He had started by reading all the school books, finding them immensely boring. Then, when he asked the librarian (huge mistake), he read all the picture books, and children books. That almost made him give up on reading. But soon he started venturing out of the part of the library the librarian had pointed out to him, and found books, not only about little boys with their footballs, or little girls with their ponies, but about how the world actually _were. _About anything he could possible want to know, as a curious 6 year old boy. And that, was a _lot _of things.

Due to the fiasco with children's fiction, Harry didn't even bother to read anything but the non-fiction books for a long time. But when none of the books harry read offered even the tiniest bit of explanation for his… _gift_ harry became increasingly frustrated. He ventured away from his usual spaces, and incidentally, ended up in the teenage fiction part of the library. There the flashy title on one of the books caught him. It said simply `magic` and the book's cover was nothing but a swirling of colors. Harry immediately picked it up. Magic. That was what they called _it_, the Dursleys. He opened the book on a random page and read a bit. Words caught his eyes, _wizard, power, darkness, teleport. _Hurriedly Harry closed the book again, feeling like he was doing something wrong. Which was absurd, because all he was really doing, was reading a _fiction _book, with completely _made up _stuff in it. Nothing to get so worked up about. At least that was what he told himself, as he forced his mask of indifference back on. Still, he was almost squirming when waiting for the librarian to check out the book, and the rest of the day seemed to pass in a fog.

Of course, as soon as Harry actually read the book, more questions were created than answered. And some things in the book just didn't _fit_. It seemed as if though, the guy who wrote it had the right idea, but nothing concrete to say. And the plot was just ridiculous. Couldn't they just write about magic without all the fancy stuff around it? It annoyed him, that when he finally found something that spoke of _it_, it had to be a fairytale setting and completely without anything useful, as actual guiding for Harry. Still, the next day, Harry borrowed 3 more books from the same department as the first one. And more the next day. And the next. Each night he would feverishly read through them, skimming the pages for ideas. There had to be _something_ that spoke about how the wizards and witches in the story learned all their magic. How they went from someone like Harry, to someone who cast _spells, _and battled _dragons_ and did all sorts of cool stuff. Just a small hint, enough that Harry could do the same. And then, when he was the fiercest wizard in the world, he could come back and use his nastiest spells on the Dursleys.

Then they could see just _how _freakish Harry was!

* * *

A/N So, what do you think? *poppy eyes* good, bad, horrible or wanting to ripe your eyes out at the sheer horror? Can you ignore the gramma? (I'm sure there is a _lot_ of mistakes) And if the gramma is alright I'm sure it's all the courtesy of my lovely beta DiamondSkin. Thanx darling! The plot is laid down for the next 7 chapters, so I'll just have to type them from my notebook to the com. But first, all you lovely guys out there will have to review and tell me what you think!


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and _Chan/Shouta _(Forgot that last chapter… sorry! But don't worry it won't be anything explicit before he is 14 at least… He's just going to a really naughty boy in all ways *smirk*)

**Disclaimer: **Jo owns everything! (Everything important that is -.-')

**Warnings this chap: **child abuse and misuse of legilimensy

**A/N: **So I'm back! With the next chapter of this weird little story… This one is betaed by dearest twin sister, _._ I don't think it's as thoroughly checked and rechecked as the last one, but hey, I finished it four times as fast, so that makes up for it a bit, neh?

Behind Green Eyes

By AtrumMaximus

Chapter 2

It was on Harry's eight years birthday, that he discovered his ability to 'change' other people's minds. He didn't really mean to do it, but he had been reading about telepathy and trying it for a while. He just couldn't seem to get it to _work_. Staring intently at Dudley's head, didn't get him inside it, it only got Dudley to complain to Petunia, who then hit harry with the frying pan so he got a big blood swelling on his left upper arm. Stupid magic. So when Harry, very annoyed and slightly sullen, (it was his birthday and the only thing he had gotten was a bruise and a headache. Thanks for nothing) heard his uncle planning to have Aunt Marge over for dinner; he instinctively reached out towards his uncle, his magic screaming NO. Vernon froze in place in the middle of dialing the phone number to his fellow whale. Harry's breathing was coming out in pants, and he didn't know what to do. Trying to send the same kind of wave of _something_ out as before, he tried to get his uncle to put down the phone. It fell out of the man's hand, hitting the floor with a loud thump. "Is there something wrong, Vernon dear?" His aunt's shrill voice sounded from the kitchen doorway. Harry looked away at once, his concentration gone. What the hell was that? It was so… _cool._

Over the next few weeks, Harry experimented with this new power of his, trying to get his relatives to do small things. He quickly discovered certain limits to this ability. For example it was much easier to prevent someone from doing things, than actually getting them to do what you wanted; than setting new suggestions in their brain. So when he willed his aunt to do the dishes instead of him, nothing happened. Not even when he focused all he had in him, did she do more than twitch slightly and take a step towards the kitchen. Then she shook her head and scowled at him, hitting him over the head, and sending him in the kitchen to something 'useful' as she said.

Another problem was the fact that he couldn't control more than one person at the time. The others would start noticing that one of their family members was acting strange, and that was _not _something Harry wanted. He shuttered just thinking about Uncle Vernon's reaction, if he found out that Harry had been meddling with his family's minds. The brainmagic wasn't really useful for anything in Harry's everyday life, he at last concluded, a bit disappointed. It took too much concentration on his part, and though he could maybe stop Vernon from hitting him from time to time, and maybe get Dudley to stop bothering him when he was trying to read, it was not permanent, as his first experience showed. Harry _had_ as a matter a fact, spent his birthday running away from Aunt Marge's crazy dog, the only thing different was that he had to cook dinner late, since Vernon had to sit and relax in the couch for two hours after ´the black out´, before he called to invite Aunt Marge.

But maybe… If Harry could get a way to make it permanent… If he could _alter_ their minds and not just control it for a short time. Then maybe… That definitely demanded intense research. He obsessively searched through the books at the library – useless. When he was at The Dursleys he practiced. Tried new things, new methods. Nothing worked like he wanted it to, and he was growing frustrated. Funny how the first big step towards result, happened one of the few times he _wasn't_ trying.

It was a week into the new school year, about a month since his 'break-through' and Harry's class had gotten a new math teacher. An annoyingly observant one at that. She seemed to – unlike the other teachers – actually notice Harry. It unnerved him. And then she asked him to stay behind after class. Harry could see that she was trying to be subtle in her probing, but he was still very much aware of what this meant. She _knew_. Somehow something had awoken this woman's suspicion of Harry's situation, and now the only thing left was the evidence, the confession from this abused young boy. And there was nothing he could say to avert her suspicion.

Harry wouldn't stand for it.

Determinedly he reached out with the magic, the same way he did when he wanted to control people. Only this time he did it slowly, searchingly, no command lying in the magic as before. He prodded at the feel of her brain, looking for something… The woman's voice had faltered in the middle of a question, and her eyes had turned glassy. He sneered at her, but she didn't react. His magic brushed against something that felt a bit like pebbles, small and big ones, lying on a soft stream. This was it, he felt, as he reached out and poked the nearest of the pebbles. It burst in a way, yet stayed whole, and images of the last class started flashing for Harry's eyes. He tried the next. This was the conversation with Harry, and Harry felt a bit weird watching it again. But that had to be the way to precede, so slowly he let he magic whisk away the pebble, erasing it like one would a mistake on a drawing. Nothing changed on the woman's face. He poked some of the other pebbles lying around, but soon realized it would take far too long to look at them all. Tryingly he sent a pulse through his magic, asking for pebbles about him. The stream didn't change, but slowly a few of the pebbles started sending off soft glowing warmth. Harry followed it, erasing most of them after checking that they were indeed concerning him. He only let the vague memory of him in the first class be, so she would still remember that she knew him – sort of. It was only when he finished, that he noticed that he had been 'talking' with his teacher for at least 2 hours. Damn that was going to be hard to explain to his English teacher, especially since the math teacher wouldn't even remember having asked him to stay behind. But it was worth it. He knew how to change his mindmagic now, who was to say he couldn't find other things than memory-pebbles? He could do anything now…

Harry held on to that thought all the way through the beating Vernon gave him when he got home.

Harry never got any questions from his math teacher again, and he was soon experimenting with this development too. He couldn't very well just erase memories – because that was what they were if anyone doubted it – at random, without the fear of damaging the test-subjects beyond repair. But he had no qualms with trying to alter a few insignificant memories or two. After all, who needed to remember what they ate last week? So what if the first few times Harry tried it he ended up accidently erasing several days at time, or changing the memories so bad, that he could see the haunted looks in the subject's eyes for weeks after. It was for the best – if not for theirs, then Harry's, and they where after all just inferior beings. They would get over it.

When Harry got tired of playing with the memories of the random persons unfortunate enough to be near him, he started searching for other parts of the mind. He still hadn't forgotten his first goal of telepathy – even though it was more for the sake of reading another's mind, than actually speaking through a mind-bond. He had no interest in conversation with the Dursleys, not even in such a spectacular way. Besides, he was sure that if his voice suddenly and mysteriously began speaking to any of them inside their heads, he soon would no longer _have_ a head to speak from. So without any feel for what precisely he was looking for, but with a clear goal in mind (no pun intended), he looked through the different feelings and textures of the mind. Sometimes he wondered a bit morbidly what would happen if he just _pushed. _Would the boy next to him go blind if he pushed a bit too hard on the part that felt like a spider web? Sometimes it was hard to resist temptation, especially towards the Dursleys. But this was for the sake of knowledge not halfhearted revenge! They would get what they deserved, but not before Harry was ready to give it.

Then Harry stumbled over two things that intrigued him. First, what he had actually been looking for – or so he assumed. A part of the brain, that felt a bit like a void, a part where words and mumblings tumbled by at random. It was very… confusing. Harry discovered that reading minds was definitely not as easy as it sounded. People where never just thinking one thing, there where layers and layers, conscious thought and things that the owner was barely aware of. And it all went so _fast_. The thoughts were so much quicker than real talk, and most of it was impossible to understand. Though it did make sense when he thought about it. How was a person supposed to think about what they said if they didn't think faster than they spoke? There were differences between the speeds of people's minds though. He found out with a sort of sardonic glee that Dudley's thoughts were entirely too easy to follow. It was almost sad.

But with that goal at least partially reached, Harry could turn his attention to the other interesting discovery he had made. The _nerve_ center. It was something that Harry had an almost sickly fascination with. After all the pain he had experienced… And yet look at that! You only had to turn you magic slightly right there, and you could burn the person alive and he wouldn't feel a thing. Or if you poked right there he would feel _everything, _and you didn't even have to light a match. Of course this was only assumptions. He would have to experiment and train and search, if he should actually figure out the big confusing mass that the nerve center felt like. It was perhaps the most advanced thing he had yet to try, especially since he couldn't do very many things, in fear of accidently killing his test subject. He remembered all the physiology books he had read, and even borrowed some of them again. It didn't help him much, other than confirm that the nerve center could indeed be stooped or triggered to inflict pain, but that it was difficult to determine what parts exactly did what. He _knew _that dammit! He wanted to know how! Then the idea came to him, that maybe he didn't have to consciously direct his magic about in there. When he had played with his math teacher's memory pebbles, he had _wished _for the ones concerning him, and the magic had complied, finding them for him. Maybe he could just wish for the type of pain he wished to inflict, and the...victim he supposed it was, would feel it automatically, his magic pushing the right nerve centers? It was worth a try.

In this way Harry developed his magic more and more, focusing mostly on his so called 'brainmagic'. He became an exceedingly skilled legilimens, and though he didn't know it, he was soon far past the level of any normal wizard, just from the fact that he had searched wandlessly with his magic long before he got the idea to wish directly. Wizards like Severus Snape, Dumbledore and Lord Voldemort all use the spell _legilimens_, a spell that directs you directly to the memory-stream. And only with long training are they able to direct it to the surface thoughts instead. But you'll get more chance to compare Harry to other wizards later, when he actually comes in contact with them. Believe me it will be pitiful.

It was around then that the Dursleys decided that they wanted to take an extended weekend in London. Now that shouldn't really be of much consequence for our – erhem – _hero, _except that that left him with none other than the sweet old lady Arabella Figg. And what do you think would happen if you put a skilled legilimens in the company of the squib spying on him…? One thing is for sure. Harry is about to be _very _pissed off.

**A/N** So, here we are! Chapter 2, and Harry is getting better by the day! (Or year I supposed considering I just did a 2 year time jump…) Aren't you all looking forward to the Figg/Harry meeting and the following revelations? I sure am… I actually really wanted to include it here, but I've decided to make each chapter about 2000 words, so there goes, I already surpassed it magnificently ^^' Thanks to all those (4) who reviewed last chap! :D I'll probably update again on Monday latest…


	3. Chapter 3

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but the clothes I'm wearing! (which btw are pretty cool…)

**Warnings this chap: **misuse of legilimensy and severe Dumbles hating

**A/N: **Sorry fellows, but this chap is un-betaed! Please don't kill me if (when) it sucks :)

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

The visit started out normally; Harry politely refused any of the too old cake and cold tea, listened to very annoying stories about very annoying cats, and tried to ignore the unpleasant smell of boiled cabbage. When the boredom became too great he began discreetly trying to turn Mrs. Figg's hair purple – and then back to grey when he actually succeeded. More boredom followed. They had dinner. Harry changed the color of her hair again, to orange this time. It didn't look more flattering than the purple had. Then, deciding that he could just as well practice something useful instead of silly color changing, he began fiddling out his brainmagic. Even though he r_eally _couldn't imagine anything in the old lady's mind that he would want to see.

Suffice to say that he was surprised. He had started out with her surface thoughts; since that was the thing he had most trouble handling. The most prominent thought in the lady's head was – just as he had thought – whether or not her cats would like the new pet treats. It was the under-swirls that caught his attention. Her entire under layer was focused on harry. And not just because he was her visitor, no, it seemed that dear old Mrs. Figg had been watching him on the orders of someone named Dumbledore, and that she knew about magic! Harry sat up abruptly, his concentration gone. Mrs. Figg looked at him questioningly, and he quickly gave her a shy smile. Then, when her attention turned back to one of the many cats, harry went in again, this time to her memories. Incredulously he watched the normal old lady meet with some not very normal people, just a few days back, several of them wearing _robes _and one in particular in some yellow robes with sparkle and a real Santa beard. The Dumbledore guy. With a start harry realized that they were talking about him. They seemed to be members of some kind of organization…

Harry watched the memory, then went back even more, finding more and more of such scenes. Apparently Mrs. Figg met with one of the people – wizards - at least ones a month and _reported_ about him. Little things about his everyday life. She wasn't very observant though, harry remarked with a mental snort. She described him as a 'quiet, polite boy with his head in the skies' and said that he seemed to enjoy _yardwork_. Pfft, as if it was something he did of his own free will. Still the thought that this pathetic old woman had been observing him, reporting on him was enough to give Harry a bitter taste in his mouth. But what was really the worst part was that she had contact with people like him. This unworthy creature had what he wanted. And yet… Did he really want it after all? They knew about him. They knew he was there and that he was one of them, and still they did nothing. It felt like betrayal.

Harry browsed through her memories at random, slowly gaining a picture of the different people. The most prominent was the old wizard, Albus Dumbledore. He was always at the meetings, and though he brought some of the others along it seemed to be he who was the leader. There was an old lady, with a fierce expression on her face, a second in command of sorts. Minerva Mcgonagall. She was the one who asked the most pointed questions, and she seemed to be genuinely interested in his welfare. Pity she trusted the words of Figg to actually portray the truth of the matter.

Then there was another lady, Vector, who seemed to be almost annoyed with the meetings. She did not really want to care. Then there was a dwarf like man who almost always remained silent. A most peculiar one was an old man scarred beyond what would be normal, wearing a _wooden leg. _Miss Figg was scared of that one. Harry didn't really blame her considering his gruff mannerism and that freaky eye thing. Then a lot of redheads, but they didn't really seem to have any say in things. And from time to time a shadowy scowling man with long black hair and a sharp tongue. He seemed to be convinced that Harry was treated like a prince, and his only contribution to the meetings was insults about Harry. No wonder he wasn't with them very often.

It was when Harry found a particular vivid memory of an encounter just with Mrs. Figg and the Dumbledore fellow that Harry realized something. This Dumbledore wasn't ignorant like Figg was. He didn't just know that Harry was a wizard, he knew about Harry's relatives too. He knew _exactly _how the Dursleys treated Harry and still he did nothing. That wasn't the worst part though. Because Albus Dumbledore had done something much worse than willfully ignoring Harry's abuse, he had been the one to start it all.

Albus Dumbledore had placed Harry at the Dursleys.

Ice-cold fury spread through Harry's veins and – no longer caring about being subtle and gentle – Harry wrecked Figg's brain for information about why Harry was there. There had to be a _reason_ he wasn't with people like him, a reason they would leave him in a prison like this. An old memory pebble suddenly glowed hotly, calling Harry to it, and cautiously and more than a bit anxious he popped it. It was a conversation between all of the people from the organization this time. They were talking about a… war of some kind and these people had been on one side of the war. And so had Harry's parents it seemed. His parents… His parents had been magical. That was a thought to contemplate later. And it seemed his parents had been killed by someone, and the same someone had tried to kill Harry. But he had failed and had somehow vanished.

The redheads were convinced one year old harry had slayed the monster. Really now. And then a lot of vague explanations and weary babble from Dumbledore. Harry got a bit annoyed that none of them would say the name of his parents' murderer. They just continued saying 'you know who.' Harry clearly didn't know who.

But one thing was clear. Harry's parents did most certainly not die in a car accident. Another thing the Dursleys had lied about. He supposed he should be angry at the you-know-who person for killing his parents, but it was impossible for him to muster any real feelings about. He felt… detached. He had never known his parents. They didn't mean anything to him. And the small impression he got of them from the Dursleys and the memories, showed them as almost disgustingly _happy_. Too light, too good, too different from Harry to give him any sense of connection to them. So he wasn't upset about their murder. After all it had been a war. They had been soldiers. Soldiers die for their course.

He did feel an intense curiosity of the wizard who killed them though. The one he himself had supposedly caused the death of. The fact that there was a wizard who was so dark and cruel that people was afraid to say his _name_ almost made him giggle_._ That was what he wanted to be. No longer Harry or freak or boy, just a scared whisper from trembling lips. It was just too bad that the other guy was gone, or else he could have learned from him. He certainly did not want to learn _anything _from Dumbledore. That man… Harry hated him. Hated him with a fierceness that surpassed even the one he felt for the Dursleys. Because those where inferior creatures, their ignorance to a certain degree excusing them. (Not that Harry would excuse them. They would pay) Dumbledore was like him, and he had no excuses. He did what he did because he had decided too, and he made choices in Harry's life- choices that no one should make. And he thought it alright, all of them did, but it was _not _alright. And Harry would show them. Someday, somehow he would get back at all of his _watchers. _But until then he had to get stronger.

He watched the meeting to end, and then moved further back to the first meeting of them all. It was winter it seemed, and Dumbledore was asking Figg to move in next to the Dursleys. Before that there were no memories of Dumbledore or of Harry, and with an annoyed huff, Harry let go of the old lady's mind.

That's when he noticed that maybe he had been a bit _too_ rough, since Figg was now openly staring at him, something akin to fear in her eyes. "What did you do? H-how did you learn that?!" She asked voice shaking. Harry furiously tried to come up with a way to get out of this. Dumbledore and his people could _not _find out yet, he wasn't ready. Instantly he sent her a blinding smile. "I'm sorry Mrs. Figg, I don't know what you're talking about. You were just telling me a story."

"B-but you just…" Harry sent his magic into the pebble with his visit. Ignoring the old lady's frightened babble he slowly began pressuring, trying to change it to accept his version of the events. "You are mistaken." He abruptly cut into Figg's talking stream. "We spend the night drinking tea. You were knitting and telling me stories of your cats. I was too shy to say much. It was a very agreeable evening. Nothing out of the ordinary happened." By the end of his commands Figg was mumbling with him in agreement, and Harry could feel the memory pebble slowly re-melting to the form he wanted. When he was sure it was done he pulled out completely. Figg had a dazed look on her face.

Calmly he picked up his tea, willing it to be warm again. He had much to contemplate. Maybe the next time the wizards visited Mrs. Figg he could try going into their minds too, and he could find out stuff about where people like him was taught and where they lived. He might even find a way to escape the Dursleys, if not permanently than for periods of time. And he really itched to find out how wizards felt to him. He was sure that Mrs. Figg didn't have an ounce of magic in her body, but did people who have feel different than others. Could you perhaps feel the power… The thought send a thrill of excitement through Harry. -_Power-_ Power was everything.

Then an unsettling thought hit Harry. If he could enter their minds –could the other wizards enter his mind as well? He would definitely have to find a way to hinder that. It just wouldn't do to shatter their impression of him as a good boy yet, not when it could still be of use. Harry had no doubt that when he was finally introduced to the world of magic, he would be expected to depend on Dumbledore and his people. And he probably wouldn't be strong enough to declare himself independent, not before he had a chance to learn what they knew. So from then on he would have to be even more careful how to act around the old lady and people in general. He couldn't be sure she was the only one watching him.

He wondered if it would be safe to enter the mind of Mrs. Figg one last time before she broke out of her daze, just to get the date for the next meeting with the wizards. He had to know much time he had to prepare for _accidently _being near her house that day. And also he would have to practice shielding his mind before then. He hadn't tried entering his own mind before, so he better get started as soon as he got back to the cupboard.

Gently he wiggled the little bit of information out of the old lady. She didn't even twitch. Ah, it seemed they would meet the night of the next full moon, which gave harry a little under three weeks to prepare. And, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, he wouldn't be able to start before his 4 days at Figg's was over.

Oh well, he would have to use the time to carve her impression of him as the embodiment of good in stone. Then he would hopefully not have to bother as much with it later.

Harry sighed. It was going to be some loooong 4 days.

A/N Yeah well, this chap is over – next chap is started! Sorry this was a bit late, if you can say that when I haven't even set a standard posting rate yet, but then the next will probably be faster… Hope you enjoyed! And if any of you haven't read my oneshot, please do :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter belongs to the rich, blond genius, not the poor brunette with her intelligence cleverly masked behind a very thick wall of ignorance and laziness. The distinction should be easily made.

**Warnings this chap: **none really O.o

**A/N: **I'M SORRY! I _know _this is about 3 weeks late! Please don't kill me! I had a severe case of real life, mixed with a minor writers block, and I'm very sorry…. But hey, it's out now, so at least I'm not gone! Enjoy the belated chapter, and I'll give you a reward for your patience – the one who comes up with the best insult/death threat gets a oneshot! Any pairing as long as it's slash, any kink and any plotline. Go be cruel to me! (…that sounded slightly sick) As is becoming the habit, this is unbetaed.

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

As it turned out Harry needn't have bothered with preparing for the next meeting at Figg's. He didn't even get _close_ to sneaking in. He had spend the last weeks time training his mental shields and was now almost certain they could resist attack, but he hadn't thought about the fact that with the ones he was planning to spy on being wizards, they would obviously make sure that no one accidently overheard them.

So that full moon night he spend in Mrs. Figg's backyard, close enough to watch the wizards with hungry eyes, but not close enough to hear them. He could of course have gone closer, but a sort of sixth sense had warned him just before he entered the circle, that if he stepped any further they would know he was there. And as much as he would have liked to find out more about them and their world, it wasn't worth discovery, not yet. Still, there was a quiet satisfaction with watching them too. Sort of reversed situation, he thought with a snort. And it was fascinating seeing them real life, knowing for himself that there was in fact wizards, that it wasn't just something he had imagined.

They were drinking tea, and Mrs. Figg was wearing a serious look, that suited her much better than her usual obnoxious ones. The Scowling One weren't there and neither was Vector, but that didn't really bother Harry. It left him more time to focus on the others, Dumbledore in particular. The old man was leading the conversation, a pleasant smile on his lips, and his eyes twinkling so hard that Harry could see it from where he stood. It was… infuriating.

Harry stood there for a while, studying them, trying to learn as much about them as possible while he had the chance. He had a feeling he would need it to play he's part later.

It was clear that Dumbledore expected people to look to him for answers, and to follow his lead in everything, with the way he automatically took all the attention and was the one to direct the conversation. And the others followed his through with it, even Mcgonagall. Though she frowned at the headmaster a few times and even cut him off in the middle of a sentence once, it was some meek protests and Dumbledore didn't take them seriously.

Well good to know. He could perhaps get her help later. Mind you, he wouldn't trust her with anything big – for that she was way too much in the old man's clutches. But she could still be useful.

It didn't really matter that he didn't get to hear what they were saying about him, he was pretty sure Mrs. Figg wouldn't remember anything unusual from his stay with her. It would have been pleasant hearing how successful he had been in showing himself off as quiet, nervous and insecure, but he didn't really need to. It was just to inflate his own ego, he admitted to himself with a wry half-smirk.

After watching them for about an hour he slowly got up from his crouched position, shaking his sleeping legs. The wizards were fools for counting on their magic so much as to not notice someone looking at them in plain sight, but harry wasn't complaining. He would just make sure not to make the same mistake himself, he decided, before slipping back through the hedge to the Dursley's garden. There was no reason to tempt faith by being up and about when their meeting finished.

Sneaking back into bed was easy, and he even remembered to use a bit of his magic to stifle the groan from the cupboard door when he slipped in. Tomorrow was a school day, so he would have time to plan out further actions without disturbance from the Dursleys. And maybe he could also soon get to practice some nerve control.

With that happy thought Harry fell asleep.

* * *

The next few weeks went by fast, what with Harry still checking the shields around his mind every evening and practicing the other mindmagics too. He was reluctant to start out with something new before he had at least a steady grasp of the things he knew so far.

There was the memory-stream, the thought-void, the controlling – he still hadn't found a way to make it permanent, but he was working on it. He had the feeling he would need a controlling focus he could pour magic into instead of having to consciously order his magic to hold the control on the victim. Maybe a spell could help him, but Harry still hadn't found a way to get information on wizards since he couldn't get close to the only wizards he knew of without attracting their attention.

Until he found a way, he would focus on something else. He practiced other uses of magic then, since even though mind magic was the most fascinating to him, it wasn't very useful on non-living things. And he still needed to know how to change his surroundings to make them more inconspicuous. He did after all plan to sneak to where-ever-it-was-wizards-bought-stuff as soon as he _found out_ where it was. So he would need to change his looks – especially the scar. Lucky him he got his own personal celebrity-brand in birthday gift. And when he got back after the supposed visit to wizard-realm, he would _definitely _need a way to hide his new stuff. The space under the bed wouldn't be enough, not when he had visions of buying whole libraries! Unlikely of course, but he could allow himself at least a couple of books. After he got some money that is… All in all it was something he could focus on instead of mindmagic for some time.

Sadly his priorities didn't allow for practice inside pain- and nervecontrol. He couldn't even allow himself to go into the nervecenter in the minds he searched, for without experience he could easily damage something beyond his control, and now that he knew he was being watched he simply couldn't allow slip-ups.

* * *

It was about three days later, when Harry was sitting in his cupboard, trying to find a way to cover up his very recognizable scar, that he had an idea. Not an overwhelming and all-solving idea, but still an idea that would at least heighten his chance of meeting a wizard considerably.

He couldn't perhaps instill permanent compulsions in his Aunt and Uncles minds, but that wasn't really necessary to reach his shorttime-goal. If he could just make his aunt believe that she had asked him to go shopping for them – not a too outrageous idea, considering he did nearly every other task for her – she would be too proud later to admit that she didn't know why. So with just a little work, he could make it so that he at least twice a week would get the chance to go into the city to shop. And even wizards had to come out in the 'normal' world from time to time. It was only a matter of time before he ran into someone, and then it would (hopefully) be easy to extract the information from their mind.

With that plan, Harry set out to finish his homework before time, so that he would have the next day free. No sense in waiting now that he had a set course of action. Besides, Saturdays were the days were Petunia's favorite reality shows showed, and Harry had a feeling she would be way easier to push in the right direction with her mind focused on the episode she was currently missing.

24 hours later found Harry sitting in the metro to Croydon, a shopping basket in his lap. He had originally tried to convince petunia to let him go to London downtown, but her ingrown greediness fought off his mind magic. She refused to pay for tickets for longer than she had to.

Still Croydon was better than Privet Drive. And even if he didn't meet any wizards – and, he admitted to himself, that was very likely – he would still get at least 4 hours away from the Dursleys. That was a pleasure in itself.

The metro trip was soon over, and harry slowly began walking for the shops. He knew where they were from finding the place in his Aunts mind - there was no way he was going to ask. He looked around him, doing surface searches on random people in the crowed. There were a lot of different people with a lot of different lives, but none of them felt any different than the people he had met until then. None of them felt different than the Dursleys. (If only slightly more intelligent in most cases) Still he continued his search all the way until the marked, and while he picked out the stuff Petunia had ordered. It didn't seem like he would find anyone this round, but he already had the plan for going tomorrow too set, so it wasn't really a problem. But well, since he didn't need to carry out his mind-rape plans today that left him with some extra time. Maybe he could…

Harry bit his lip. It wasn't often he was insecure about something, but normally the things he wanted made sense. And if things were logical and beneficial to him and his goals he saw no reason to be anything but confident. This was different though, because he didn't really have any logical reason for his desire to look nice. His relatives would destroy anything he bought anyway, so he wouldn't even be able to wear any new clothes. But he just really really wanted something of his own, some clothes that fit, that made him feel on the outside as he was inside. And most importantly he couldn't stand the thought of having anything of Dudley's on his _skin. _The thought of being in so close contact with something that belonged to that disgusting inferior _pestilence _was enough to make his skin crawl.

That decided it for him. If nothing else he would get some boxers of his own! And maybe a shirt and some trouser in a decent quality and style for once. Harry almost smiled at the idea. Who cared if he was being unnecessarily self-indulgent. He deserved it.

With that settled Harry quickly acquired a wallet from a nearby man. He couldn't use his Aunt's money as she was sure to be counting every penny, but he was efficient at distracting the man with a casual whip of mindmagic at the same time as retrieving his wallet from his pocket. And no, he didn't consider himself a thief. Did the lion consider itself a thief when it drove away the hyenas from the slain gazelle? No. It was the same principle here; Harry had the right to the man's money if he wanted it, because the man was weak and inferior and could do nothing to stop him.

He counted out the money in the wallet. There was enough cash for what he wanted right now.

After browsing the shop windows for a bit harry went into a shop that look a bit out of place in the outdated mall. It was clean and shining, with wide spaces between the shelves, and the atmosphere positively screamed extravagance. Funnily enough they didn't have any customers. The sophisticated woman behind the desk looked up at him when the he walked in. A fleeting look of disgust crossed her face, before it was carefully veiled with polite coldness. "Can I help you?" She asked, silently getting ready to throw out the boy. He looked like a street rat, and certainly not someone with the money to buy anything in her store. Harry looked at her coldly before, with a slight upturn of his lips, telling her that he would require a complete set of clothes. Did the woman really think herself better than him? She was a grown-up, and still she was nothing but a lowly shopkeeper. She had no power, not even over the 'normal' people, the non-wizards. And she most certainly had no power over him. The woman scoffed slightly, getting annoyed with the child. "Why don't you find a store that is a bit more fitting for your money resources?" Harry merely sneered at her and starting browsing the shop. If she wouldn't help him, he could most certainly pick things out himself.

Half an hour later – and a lot of not very discreet scoffing and righteous anger from the shopkeeper – Harry had a pair of simple dark grey trousers of a soft material, a dark emerald green shirt that wasn't too showy and a grey slipover a few tones lighter in color than the trousers. The outfit was elegant and brought out the best of him – the trouser fell snugly around his form and the slipover brought out his waist, the shirt matching his eyes and fitting his thin shoulders in a way that made them look a bit effeminate instead of merely scrawny. All in all it was perfect. It was an outfit he could never wear at the Dursleys, not as his situation was now, but he knew that just having it would be enough. And soon, he thought, he would be able to wear it. In the wizarding world.

The woman at the desk look at him a bit curious now, finally resigned to let the strange child invade the shop. She didn't after all have any proof that he was there just for the fun of it. He _could _be a customer. And really he had exquisite taste for a boy so young. Most that age didn't care beyond having something cover their arses. "I would like this set of clothes please, and if you have any underwear? Black." The woman got some plain black pants for him, then counted it up and demanded the obscenely high amount of money. She looked beyond surprised when harry actually took out enough money from his (not really, but she didn't know that) wallet, and even had a few pounds left. Not much though. He hadn't saved anything for later, arguing that he could just get some more if necessary, and petunia would notice if he had money.

That done, Harry hurriedly left the shopping area, almost running. He had to get back in time for making supper before Vernon returned from work, and that left him with about 20 minutes in which to get home. Since the metro ride in itself took away at 15 minutes he reasoned that he definitely wasn't early. He almost gave up his pride and raced there, but even though he was almost certain not to make it if he walked, he had some standards. He didn't run. Ever. It was undignified and unfitting for a scholar such as him. Or such as he hoped to be, later when he had reach the height of his potential and had found his way to the wizarding world without getting caught in the old headmasters clutches. So he might as well ingrate the proper mannerism in his own behavior now rather than later.

Even if it cost him a beating and a couple of weeks shortage of food.

After all he would still get to go shopping again tomorrow. I didn't matter if he had to do it hungry. He had enough sway over his Aunt to make sure she wouldn't keep him home - she would still get him beaten and relish in his hurts, but that wouldn't make any difference to him. And maybe tomorrow he would meet a wizard.

That was enough to get him to remain quiet all the way through his Uncles belting for getting home half an hour late. What did physical wounds matter as long as he had his pride intact?

**A/N** That's it : ) The next one will be out much faster, promise! A couple of day's if we're lucky, a week at most. And then harry will get to meet his wizard… what happens after will be the fun part xP Oh and btw, there is only about 3 chapters 'til he gets his letter. From then on I'll be mixing in some canon – of course heavily edited and added some severe evilness and sarcasm! lol

Did anyone notice that this chapter was much longer than the others? At least you get that for your inconvienience…

Review pretty please…? All you guys who have me on alert but haven't review – I would really really love to hear just WHY you like my story enough to wanna keep up with it. Please. I know my ego doesn't need any more inflating, but I'm seriously a review-whore, so tell me anyway! xD


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer: **For f***'s sake people, do I look like I'm a genius? Well yes I do, but that's got nothing to do with anything. Fact is, I'm not THAT genius I'm THIS genius and I did not use my genius to write harry potter. I'm keeping it for when the dust settles and I can wrack the world with my own personal million-dollar books series that you'll love.

**Warnings this chap: **disrespect for personal brain-owning. Teenage witches *shudders*

**A/N: **Well yes. This is a week late. And I'm sorry. Again. This time I do have an excuse though! My computer crashed and I lost everything I'd written last Friday. So I had to start over and we all know how motivating that is. Anyway enjoy :) Beware! Unbetaed!

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

Almost 2 months past before something interesting finally happened. Harry had been going to the same mall every other day, sometimes venturing a bit farther away if he had extra time. He hadn't bought anymore stuff for himself, though he still occasionally took some money from the surrounding non-wizards. Mostly out of spite. But in all the time he had spent there he hadn't met anyone who where the least bit magical. He was growing frustrated.

Therefore it was a pleasant surprise when he just short of Halloween ran into some rather strange people. It was perhaps not the most informative kind of wizards he could have wished for, but on the brighter side, it did make accessing their brains easier. You see, what harry ran into where nothing less than a group of 5 teenage witches, having fun with going about the muggle world.

Harry watched them for awhile, finding amusement in the way one of them would occasionally exclaim things like "look at that thing! Aren't they wonderful?" In fact the whole group spent about 15 minutes around a gumdrop machine figuring out how it worked. The group seemed to be made of recent graduates, visiting the non-magical world for the first time. This startled harry a bit, since he had assumed the wizarding world to be rather small, an intertwined with the normal world. Apparently not, if people could be almost adults before they encountered it for the first time.

When the witches weren't talking with fascination about the non-magical people (they called them muggles. Harry instantly liked the word, and spent some time muttering it to himself. It came out nicely in a sneer), they discussed the school they had attended, Hogwarts. Surprisingly Dumbledore was the headmaster of said school, and harry suddenly recalled the people in Figg's memories calling him 'headmaster' a few times. Mostly Vector and McGonagall. Harry guessed that they were professors at the school, and was proven right when he caught one of the girls mentioning a Professor McGonagall a few minutes later. Really they ought to be more discreet with their conversations. Even if they were only surrounded by muggles (harry gleefully adopted the word in his vocabulary) they could never know who were listening. As proven by the fact that none of them had noticed harry at all.

Not that he was very notable in Dudley's cast-offs. He did look like something of a muggle street-rat. Especially when compared to the witches, who had ventured out in full wizard-wear, with ropes and hats. Harry supposed that would be the normal attire in the wizarding world, but the only reason they weren't looked at too strangely here, in the muggle world, was the time of year. Though it was a bit early, they could easily pass as teenagers going trick-or-treating.

Still, harry wondered, shouldn't they be able to sense him? He could easily feel the difference between them and the surrounding muggles. They gave of a certain aura of magic, harry couldn't really describe it, it wasn't something he could see it was like… a difference in the air around them, or in brainwaves or something. He snorted mentally. It sounded like something from a b-movie. But fact was – they stood out like torches in the dim of the muggles and harry couldn't have overlooked them if he tried. Apparently they didn't feel the same way about him. Harry chose to interpret this as them being too weak, and not him falling under the magical radar. That would be more than mildly insulting.

Eventually harry got bored with listening in on their conversations. Teenage witches are still teenage girls even if you add magic, and harry wasn't sure he could deal with any more information regarding the upcoming wedding between someone named Michael and Jacqueline and the fierce debate on whether it would be Brian or Peter who became bestman. In fact he would have been happy not knowing anything about it at all. It wasn't even worth the measure of information about the wizarding world and culture that came with it.

So, he decided to get to action. Moving closer yet, he got eye contact with the blonde standing closest to him. Immediately he forced his way into her mind, not encountering any shields. Her surface thoughts overwhelmed him, and harry was once again dragged into the frightening world of teenagers. He did _not _care about the social standings of Jennifer compared to Georgina and especially not which one of them would end up with before-mentioned Peter in the end. Hastily he focused his attention on the girl's memory-stream instead.

It felt the same as the muggle streams he had visited before, if not a bit wilder. He could feel the current actions being recorded, like a soap bobble being blown. It suddenly occurred to harry that he had no idea how to proceed from here. He couldn't request things with his magic as he had done before. It was nearly impossible to specify things with magic, since it was such a wild force, and harry would have to ask for details here. He couldn't just ask about things having to do with the wizarding world, since every single one of the girls memories had to do with the wizarding world. She lived there after all.

He didn't have the time to go through every one of her memories either, since the other young witches would surely notice if this girl was unresponsive for a large amount of time. He would have to find a way to extract information from the memories or the girl's brain, without actually watching anything, and he would have to do it now. No time for experimenting.

Tryingly he let his magic sweep through her entire memory stream, from the fountain at the start (her birth), to the soft fall where memories was currently being spun. A float of information attacked his mind. It flew by behind his eyes in flashes from random memory pebbles, giving him an insight in the girl – Vanessa. Vanessa Morh, light pureblood witch, big brother named Jonathan, fell of her horse at nine, terrified of snakes, mediocre grades, engaged to the Ulvaeus heir and generally nervous of manner and opted to please all around her. Was a Hufflepuff. (Whatever that meant. Something to do with school and badgers) It was an incomplete picture, made of moments in time and scenes flashing by. And it did _not _help him in further understanding of the wizarding world. In fact it left Harry confused and rather ruffled, trying to cope with the overload of new information.

There was something to learn from it all of course, it being scenes from the wizarding world. But he couldn't separate the important and relevant stuff from the puddle of pictures, it was more like a layer of information settling in, and he couldn't comprehend it enough to use it in active thinking.

He did find that he knew about at least one wizarding place in London though, a street named Diagon Alley. He just couldn't figure out how the hell he should get there, since the memory he had from Vanessa included something called floo powder, and rather extreme amounts of green flames. Harry thought he might wait a bit before trying the particular means of travel. Apparating though… That would demand a fair amount of attention. Kinda like teleportation from Dudley's Sci-Fi movies, and a very convenient way to move around. As soon as he had the slightest idea how to do it that is. Vanessa's memories provided no instruction manual, just showed several scenes of side-along apparations, along with a scene with her and a redhead jumping up and down, squealing about having their license. Some things are just universal.

Harry could feel his grip on Vanessa slipping a bit in his distraction, and tightened his magic even further. The sweeping method, though better than not knowing anything at all, did not have the desired effect. He needed the information _without _the memories. Without Vanessa herself in them.

He would have to try a bit different approach. Though how… The sweeping showed that he _could _access all memories to get a bit of an overlook, without actively watching them. Now he just needed to modify it to cut off the personal information and focus on relevant facts. Easier said than done, but no time to whining. Get to work.

Harry figured that it was time to be a bit impulsive, considering that the witches where bound to carry on their merry journey through the muggle world anytime now, and if Vanessa didn't move along with them, it would be a bit of a giveaway. So… what if he went into the stream instead of the pebbles? It was touching all the pebbles, so if he could connect his magic to it, wouldn't he be able to extract information from it? But he wouldn't be touching any of the memory-pebbles himself, which had earlier proved to be necessary to view them. You had to kinda _pop_ them, and the stream itself clearly didn't do it. It just flowed slowly beneath them. And Harry would bet it carried information with it. So, t didn't show any memories, but it still connected with all the pebbles.

Now that he thought about it, where did the fall at the end _lead_? It just seemed to fall into nothing from the feel he got from his magic, but it had to lead somewhere… Perhaps to the part of her brain that conducted her actions? The one that helped her decide what to do from the information at hand? Her knowledge-processor of sorts.

It would make sense. After all, one doesn't think about the exact math class you learned how to do it in every time you add to numbers together. You just know how to.

Harry felt excited about this new prospect, and maybe a little annoyed that he hadn't thought about it before. It was obvious that there had to be more to it, and how had he ignored the fact that every stream leads somewhere? It was silly really, and he scolded himself about being more observant.

Now was the not the time to regret the stupidity of past, he had to find his way to this supposed knowledge-processor center, and fast. Carefully he let his magic flow just about the stream, to the fall. The emptiness was a bit unnerving, but as long as he could feel the not-water with his magic he at least knew his way back. And if all else failed he would just call out his magic. It would possible wrack the poor witch's mind on the way, so he would rather avoid it, but it was self-preservation before all else.

Harry's magic suddenly encountered something hard. The stream had ended abruptly in a small pond at the end, and the sensation it made could only be described as freezing. Though the supposed temperature didn't change, the not-water stiffened and became hard and unbreakable to Harry's magic. As it proved when harry tried to force his way into it like he had done with the pebbles. His magic just reflected right of the surface again, and he was pretty sure that if he tried to force his way through, the pond would break before letting him in. Damn.

Wait a minute. It reflected his magic of it like a mirror or a window. Perhaps he should try _looking _through it instead! Though how does one look with magic? Until now he had prodded and felt his way through, and listened into the surface thoughts, not looked at anything but the memories that flashed behind his eyes back in his own mind. It was worth trying, but…

He was running out of time.

Letting his focus slip back to his own mind enough to use his hearing, he could hear how the other witches was joking about how Vanessa was in her own little world, and perhaps she was thinking about a crush. They were guessing at who the lucky boy could be. It couldn't be long before they became tired of the unresponsive girl and went from joking to worried. He had to do something, and he had to do it _now. _

But what? He simply couldn't let go of her now, not _yet_, not before he had what he came for. He had waited too long for this opportunity!

Desperation bordering on panic coursed through him, and his magic stirred, sweeping through him and along the surface in the mindworld ice-pond - the knowledge-pond as he had named it. It spread further, through the darkness surround the pond, all the way back to the memory center and farther along, encompassing all it passed. He could feel Vanessa's will, her Self, sleeping in a part of the mind he had never been in. He could hear her thoughts. Feel her heart beat, her blood course and the body react. The nerve-center trembling with suppressed sensation. In fact, Harry's magic was _everywhere._ He felt it all, and though he couldn't discern things in the small and clear bits he used, he felt _control. _He had full and complete control over Vanessa's mind, and it felt wonderful. It felt like power, and harry could feel how his mouth slowly quirked upwards into a twisted smile.

This was power, total power over another human being.

He let his magic write a sentence in her thought center, and just like that Vanessa opened her mouth and spoke his will.

"I think I'll go to the bathroom. Excuse me."

Harry felt laughter bubble through him, but suppressed it, and instead groped blindly with his magic with a forceful command. **Walk. **And she did.

He would have to find out in depth later what exact part of the mind he was commanding when he made her move physically, but right now it was enough that she did. The other witches was talking, and asking her/him where she was going, if they could come and if muggles even had bathrooms like they did, but harry ignored them. This – this was perfect. It was wonderful. It was what he had been looking for. It was, he suddenly realized, what he had been unconsciously doing to the Dursley's when he first had discovered brainmagic. It was just that much easier and more satisfying when he did it knowingly, and it was more lasting. Also, it occurred to him, he didn't need eye contact. Vanessa had moved about 100 meters away, but he still had control over her even though his own body hadn't moved at all. He quickly rectified that, considering that he wouldn't want to leave his own body too far behind. His control could still slip.

Keeping his magic in control of her body enough to make her continue walking in the direction of the lavatory, he focused enough on his own body to be able to see where he was walking. And where he was leading her too. She walked into the handicap toilet. (Harry didn't want to deal with noise people complaining on them being in either the men's or ladies rooms). Harry stepped in behind her and closed the door.

Then he let the laughter escape.

**A/N **There goes. Bit of a cliffy perhaps, but don't worry I'll probably update soon. Maybe. If you take the time to review! Last time I got _three _reviews. _**THREE! **_That's just not good enough guys, you'll kill my spirit! But thanks to Crazylove4MCR who as the only one have reviewed all chapters 3 And to xX-MissBoofzilla-Xx for raising my mood considerably just by being egotistical and being the first to 'luv' me in here x3 


	6. Chapter 6

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer: **Owns nothing. Am depressed.

**Warnings this chap: **Nothing really. I better get to the interesting parts soon, or I'll bore _myself_ to death… Oh wait there is the usual desecration of the mind. Then there is a bit of leaving pretty girls as ragdolls and vomiting.

**A/N: **This is… inexcusable. It's been 4 months since my last update, maybe more. I'm so, so sorry! Real life just, you known, jumped in my face, attacked me and stole my time and inspiration. I've started on a new school, a gymnasium. New class, new friends, new responsibilities and lot and lots of parties. I almost had a boyfriend at one point, and… Many other things happened… So I've been very busy! As an apology you get a much longer chapter, and I promise it won't be as long. If I go past 2 month feel free to kill me.

Oh and it's unbetaed again. Sorry.

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

When the bubbling laughter ran out, Harry found himself facing the zombie-like girl. It seemed he had so good a grip on her mind now, that he could control her even through an otherwise remarkable slip of control. He got his act together, taking one more moment to relish the feeling of his magic controlling all of the girl's brain. It really was a wonderful feeling, success. But perhaps it would be best to relinquish control of some of the less relevant parts while he worked on the current issue. He focused his attention back on the recently discovered knowledgepond.

Once again he felt around the icy surface of the processer, though this time he didn't have to stress in studying it. It was smooth and hard under his magic, and even with his powers spread out like they were; they could find no unevenness or opening. Again he pondered the idea of looking though it like a window or mirror. But how would that help him a_bsorb _the knowledge. He had no desire to watch it from the outside.

One thing was clear; he couldn't gain access with his magic using force…

A thought hit Harry.

In reality he didn't want his _magic _to absorb the knowledge – he wanted his _mind _to absorb it. So if he could find a way to connect his mind to Vanessa's…

First of all he would have to locate his own knowledgepond, and then he would have to find a way to connect the two so that _he_ got _her_ knowledge, but not the other way around. He would have to let go of her while searching his own mind though. But that shouldn't be too much of problem, since he could probably just tell Vanessa to sleep while he did it, and then go back to her when he was ready. It would perhaps even be easier to manipulate her mind when it was dormant, so the only tricky thing was forcing his way in – he usually did that through the eyes, but they would obviously be closed. Nevermind, he would figure it out when it came to it.

**Sleep,** Harry commanded through her mind, again not exactly knowing which part to direct the order to – but guessing it be the part deepest in, the one that would connect with the rest of her body. The one that if one thought of it physically would be in connection with her spine. He read about it in the anatomy books he had researched; it was called the medulla or something.

Her mind slowly relaxed around him, but he didn't stay in there to marvel at the difference, instead pulling out a bit harsher than he would have done if she was awake.

He took a moment to settle in his body again, not having used his eyes or been aware of his surroundings while exploring Vanessa's mind. Then he closed his eyes again – sparing a short glance at the girl lying on the floor – and focused on his thoughts. At first nothing happened other than him thinking about what he was thinking, and thinking about focusing on what he was thinking and then thinking about not thinking it but _doing_ it, then getting annoyed of the circle his thoughts were currently going in.

Then the back of his eyelids slowly turned to the image he associated with the thought-center, and he was in his mind. He had found that when using mindmagic in his own mind, he didn't actually use his magic. He had to enter 'manually', if you could call it that, and then move through the mind along the actual connections, not just plunge in where ever he felt like. Also he was obviously much more careful in his own mind than in others, since he had no intention of accidentally brain damaging himself.

Now that he knew it was there, it was easy enough following his own memorystream to the pond. To his displeasure his knowledgepond as it was now felt smaller than Vanessa's. It was understandable of course, since she was almost ten years older than him, and thus had had quite a bit more time to acquire knowledge. Still, it irked him. No matter, he would have her knowledge too, soon!

Tryingly he poked his own knowledgepond. It was hard too, but he felt like it responded to him in kind. Well it better, it was _his_. Perhaps it helped that he wasn't using his magic on it, but he would have to use magic on Vanessa, he couldn't access or control her otherwise. Then again, hadn't the idea been connecting the two ponds? As long as the connection itself wasn't disturbed by magic, it would probably be enough.

Just how to connect them though. He had compared the feeling of the centers t ice, so maybe if he could mold the ice to follow? Or would it be better to proceed with the notion of a mirror? Get the ponds to reflect each other? No that didn't sound right. A reflection went two ways, and Harry couldn't have that.

He would go with water then – that made it easier, since he would (theoretically) just have to find somewhere sufficiently close to the memoryfall for the not-water to be moldable. And then of course came the hard part of actually bringing the two ponds together. He couldn't really _grab_ the not-water or something like that, so he would have to make his magic into some sort of drain. And then make the not-water float upwards. Which he had no idea how to.

A sucking effect then. Right.

Tentatively Harry felt out the ice of his own knowledgepond, moving gradually closer to the fall, until he thought it had the right consistence. Then, realizing he couldn't actually use his mindmagic in his own brain, he memorized the distance from the fall so as to easily find it in Vanessa's mind. Or any minds he planned to rape in the coming years.

Slowly he moved his consciousness back out of his mind, reaching out with his magic to find Vanessa again even before having opened his eyes. Without the eye contact, he felt out her presence with his magic, finding it to be easy. His magic could easily tell the difference between Vanessa and her surroundings. He forced it into her. This time he could move around much easier than before, and he felt a spark of satisfaction. He was already getting the hang of it – soon he would be able to take full control of a person's mind entirely without struggle. He would have to remember to try it again later, to see if it could be done without the enhancement brought on by strong emotions. After completing the knowledge-transfer that is, and if he had the time.

Now he had to focus. Vanessa's knowledgepond lay still before him, and he instantly began searching out the perfect distance to the fall. The water was very fast to freeze, but he found a place where it seemed soppy.

Concentrating hard, he focused on feeling his magic and giving it a solid form. Closing imagined eyes, he pictured a spiral, swirling round and round, bringing the 'water' with it. Slowly the 'air' in front of him began moving like he pictured, faster as he commanded it. He stretched the spiral, not yet letting it touch the surface of the pond, but dragging it from Vanessa's mind and into himself, into his mind. Not a very long journey considering that, at the moment, his conscious mind was inside Vanessa's own. The spiral grew smaller until it fit the size of his projection, then he slipped it in through his temple.

He had never entered a mind through a physical place other than the eyes before, and he had to concentrate to guide it, especially since he couldn't follow it in himself, not without affecting it with magic. It was risky enough controlling the spiral of magic from the girls mind. He had to be careful not to touch anything in his own mind.

It was all very bizarre really. Working with invisible forces like magic, in non-existent spaces inside someone else's mind, and on an illusion, a projection made by his mind, of his own body. None of it was really there, and still they affected each other.

Harry decided not to contemplate it further right now. It was affecting his concentration.

The spiral reached his own knowledgepond now, and he stopped it before it reached the surface. He would suck up part of Vanessa's pond first, before connecting the two. Just to make sure the flow went the right way.

Carefully he lowered the swirl of magic down to the soppy surface in the girls mind, opening his eyes. In fascination he watched as the 'water' was instantly sucked up, like by tornado. It flowed around like he imagined, and he felt a thrill of excitement as the first of it reached his temple.

The feeling was unexplainable. It was the first time Harry had had a foreign existence in his mind, and it was… distracting. Like an itch he couldn't scratched, a slimy feeling destroying all concentration and forcing all his attention on it. Absentmindedly he remembered to connect his own knowledgepond with the spiral, before the girls knowledge reached it. The spiral stirred the water a bit, but didn't otherwise affect his own mind, not without the addition of magic he used on Vanessa to suck it up.

Then the knowledge reached the water. Time seemed to freeze for a moment and a sound like glass meeting glass sounded through both minds. Then the water sunk into Harry's own pond.

Paralyzed he let it happen, pictures flashing through his mind. His head felt like it was exploding, but not in the way it had when he had connected briefly with Vanessa's memories. This was without emotion, without any kind of inflection. It was a cool feeling like ice, but he wasn't falling through it, it was falling through him, into him. His mind was flashing trying to keep up, and there was more, and _more_, and _MORE_.

Faintly Harry was aware that he was screaming. But he could do nothing about it. He wanted the ice to stop, he wanted the pain – yes **pain**. It was pain! He wanted it gone. But still, he didn't. For he could feel the knowledge as it fell into him, into his mind. And it was beautiful. It was thrilling. It was addicting. He wanted it to stop, but he wanted more still.

This was what he had been looking for. This was the reason for his search for wizards. And soon he would know everything the older witch knew.

The spiral was still swirling, still draining water from Vanessa to him. But he could feel Vanessa's pond getting smaller, as the knowledge drained from her to him. Soon it would be done. Part of him was relieved. Another part wanted more.

The spiral slowed, reaching the bottom, if there was such a thing, and Harry found that he could think clearly through the ice again. He shut off his new knowledge for the moment, confining it to the part of his knowledge pond farthest from the memory fall. His head hurt like it had never hurt before, and as Harry became aware of his body again, he found it lying on the floor with a whimpering he couldn't stop.

He stopped the swirl, vanishing the spiral and drawing back his magic. Slowly he removed himself from Vanessa's mind and went back into his own fully. He couldn't bring himself to open his eyes just yet.

He became aware of someone pounding on the door, shouting. It was probably someone who'd heard his screaming. He would have to figure out a way out of this too.

He snorted weakly. One never had a moment's peace. Wincing he sat up and forced his eyes open. The first thing they focused on was Vanessa lying in front of him. Instantly he paled to a sickly white.

The girl, who had before been a reasonably attractive and reasonably intelligent young witch, was unrecognizable. What lay before him was…

Harry leaned to one side an emptied his stomach on the floor.

Vanessa – or the Thing that had been Vanessa – was lying on the floor in an impossible angle. Her eyes were wide open, staring unseeingly at the ceiling. Drool mixed with vomit was dripping down her chin, and she had clearly lost control of her bladder and… other things. She had ripped out her own hair and there were long deep scratches all over her face and body, made by her own nails, as made clear by the blood soiling her hands. All her clothes were soiled by vomit and piss, but she took no notice. In fact, it was doubtful that Vanessa would ever take notice of anything again.

Harry realized he hadn't been completely aware of what it meant for a human to be drained of all knowledge.

He wiped his mouth with a paper towel, getting himself on his feet. He tried to tell himself that he had been prepared for the consequences of his actions, and that he did not in any way regret it. His upset stomach had just had a moment of weakness. Nothing more. Harry was young still, it was understandable. He was settled again now, he told himself. Set on the right course. Focused.

Harry did not look in the direction of the Thing.

Instead he righted his clothes, checked the mirror and set his face in an embarrassed grimace

Then he opened the door so hard that he pushed the man outside away.

"I'm sorry sir!" He said closing the door behind him.

The man was studying him, worried. "Hey, kid, are you alright? Was that you screaming?" He looked like he wanted to grab Harry and check him over for injuries.

Harry started moving away slowly. "Yes. I'm sorry, it's just - I scare easily and my friend had a frog hidden in my pocket. I just snapped you know. I…Well I'm sorry for worrying everyone sir."

The man didn't look convinced. Harry forced a blush.

"Sir, my mother and my friend is waiting in the car. I really should get there, since I've already been so long."

With that he turned and ran. Out of the side of his eye he spotted the other young witches from the group, gathered around the ladies room, looking very worried.

He tried not to think of how the Ulvaeus heir would have to find a new fiancée, or how Michael and Jacqueline would be missing a guest at their wedding.

**A/N**

That's it for the time being, Next chap's gonna be exciting! Harry will have some time to check out his new knowledge of the wizarding world. Might be a bit overwhelming… And I'm so proud! My little boy has destroyed his first life, and he didn't even regret it very much! We'll make a man of him yet!


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer: **It's still not mine dammit! But I'm working on it… J.K. was in DK just now – why didn't I kidnap her again?

**Warnings this chap: **Nada

**A/N: **I'm awesome :3 no beta – probably mistakes. Will maybe repost when betaed.

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

The trip back to the Dursleys from the mall was confused. Harry didn't have the cool perspective he usually had – in fact he had no perspective at all. He tumbled on the subway train and found a place to sit, walking into several people on the way. His mind was not working at all, or that was the way it felt.

He needed a place to sit down and sort things through. Somewhere he could let all the knowledge trapped in his brain go free. Let it become truly his own.

But first he had to explain to Petunia why he was 2 hours late and didn't have any vegetables with him. Harry decided it was allowed to be crude in this situation, and swore heavily. How the fuck was he to get out of this mess? Dinner was late, he didn't have the ingredients to cook it and no valid explanation either.

Shit.

He growled angrily, trying to get his worn out brain parts to cooperate. He needed to find an excuse!

Unfortunately Harry didn't manage that before reaching his subway stop. In fact he didn't manage it at all. And standing before his aunt and uncle he could do nothing but stare at them silently in hatred.

The backhanding Vernon gave him, didn't take him totally by surprise. But his own reaction to it kinda did. If he hadn't been so out of it he probably wouldn't have done it either. At least he had the commonsense, even in his current state, not to do anything loud or otherwise attention seeking.

After all, he could probably pretty easily make his relatives forget the way Vernon had been writhing on the floor clutching his head and whimpering. And how he himself had looked on in fascination. But first he was going to take a moment to enjoy the look of fear on their faces.

He was going to have to revise his priorities. The nervecenter just moved up the list.

* * *

Later that evening saw Harry sitting in is cupboard, staring at the ceiling. He had erased the memorypebble made by his actions in both his Aunt and Uncle. But he had given into the temptation to letting it stay in Dudley. Hopefully that wouldn't come back to haunt him – he had taken the time to warn the fat boy that if he ever told anyone, not only would they not believe him, but the pain Harry would bring him afterwards would not be something to whimper about like Vernons. It would be worthy or screams.

Not that Harry doubted that Dudley would scream no matter what. He nearly pissed himself with fear just at seeing his father in pain.

After erasing the two adults' memory of the event, he had been send into his cupboard, no dinner, while the Dursleys went out to a restaurant. It was a mild punishment compared to his usual, but he guessed they had been more than mildly confused. That happened when you meddled with the brain, Harry could attend to that.

Now that he had all the peace and quiet he could ask for, Harry was trying to find the will to open up for his new knowledge. He was very curious and excited, but also so very tired. And it was bound to be overwhelming.

With a small sigh, Harry chastised himself for forgetting his principles. Knowledge before all, right? Even before comfort. No, _especially_ before comfort.

He closed his eyes and went back inside his tired mind; followed the path back into his knowledgepond. The difference in size compared to before made him smile. Well, he had nothing to be displeased with now had he? It was definitely bigger than Vanessa's now. That thought made his smile dim. Then he forced it back up, even gave a little chuckle. There was no place for weakness or second thoughts. He had decided not to have any conscience. To be without regrets.

One of his other principles was _never_ going back on a decision.

He didn't break promises. Especially not promises to himself.

He easily found the part of the pond that was locked away. It was after all the larger one. With a deep breath he shattered the binding, letting the waters mix again.

He sat back, breathing hard. It wasn't as overwhelming this time as when he transferred it. But now he actually had to absorb it, make it his own. It had to be _his_ knowledge. Which meant he had to _know_ these things. Know them like they where his own.

His headache was back full-force, but he didn't pay it any attention.

* * *

10 hours later when Petunia knocked on his door, Harry opened his eyes.

Slowly he got up and absentmindedly straightened his clothes. He hadn't been sleeping, so they weren't as ruffled as one could have feared. But it still disgusted him to be forced to wear the same clothes again.

He could of course use a cleaning charm on them now, but it wasn't the time for experimenting. Petunia would notice anyway, she always took great pleasure in wrinkling her nose and commenting on his appearance. No recognition of the fact that his appearance was entirely her fault.

Harry wondered if he would have to get a wand, or if he should try using the spells without. He hated failure, but he could already use his mindmagic without one. What was it called again - Legilimensy. And Occlumensy. There wasn't much knowledge about it, as proven by his easy entrance to her mind, but she must have been told about it at some point. Enough to tell him that it was an art practiced by many adult purebloods and that the extend of one's skills in it, were widely decided by the talent one was born with. Some just never learned it.

That's what it means to be open-minded I guess, Harry thought in amusement.

Harry felt… older of sorts. He knew things now. Understood them. He was sure he mastered the inner workings of the pureblood etiquette, at least to a certain degree. Perhaps only the light purebloods, but still. He also knew the entire curriculum for the base classes of Hogwarts year 1-7, plus arithmancy and care of magical creatures. He was glad he didn't need to take those classes himself. CMC seemed remarkably uninteresting. Arithmancy seemed remarkably complicated. In fact he wasn't sure he completely understood it, since he had only inherited Vanessa's understanding. Which is to say not much. He would have to consider it more carefully later…

Right now he needed to put his new understanding of the Wizarding world in the back of his head and make breakfast to his dear family. Then, he would have to decide what to do. There were so many things to try out.

Spells first, or plans for visiting Diagon?

Never mind, breakfast. Focus.

Harry pushed open the door, ignoring his aunt's shrieks of anger. She was always shrieking in anger. He cooked the eggs perfectly without thinking about it – this was something he had earned his skills in.

After he had served the eggs he stood back, lost in thought. Petunia hit him over the back of the head.

"What are you just standing there for boy? You think I'm gonna let you go into town today, with how late you came back yesterday? I think not!" She sounded scandalized. Harry decided it was time to remove the idea of shopping from her mind again, the one that had let him go to town. He had no further need of it, and it would be best to steer clear of the mall from some time. Vanessa's body could easily be connected with the screaming boy.

Swiftly he reached into his aunt's mind and planted a simple sentence I n her thoughtcenter.

'The boy shouldn't go to the mall anymore. He could be slacking off'

Petunia stopped in the middle of the sentence she had been saying. She whirred her head, looking confused. Then she narrowed her eyes.

"NO. You're not going out today. And that's final so don't even think to argue you little freak or Vernon will show you! You will do cores today I think! The garden needs weeding." With that she turned to the window, no doubt to check that no neighbors had spotted the conversation. As if anyone was as interested as her in gossip.

Harry sighed. The downside of not going into town anymore.

* * *

Weeding was not one of Harry's favorite things to do. In fact it was one of his least favorite things to do. He hated physical work with a vengeance. He didn't care much for sunburns either – and he was getting one.

Do I know a spell to weed with? He asked himself. The answer was no. Vanessa had never touched a weed in her life. It was the houseelfs job to keep the garden. Harry wanted a houseelf.

Perhaps he could practice other spells while he weeded. As long as it didn't slow his work, and he didn't try any spells too noticeable it should be okay. He didn't want mrs. Figg to spot him practicing magic.

Maybe the floating charm? _Wingardium leviosa_. Ah yes – he could do that without the spell of course, but it would perhaps be easier with it. No harm in trying.

He focused on a small rock next to the dandelion he was currently spending all his humble powers on trying to get free. "Wingardium Leviosa" He whispered. The next moment he was falling on his ass in his haste to move out of the way of the little missile. The stone shot straight up in the air with the speed of a bullet. Harry lost all concentration. It fell down again.

Harry stared at it for a moment. Then he chuckled.

"Wingardium leviosa"

The stone rose again, this time at a sedate phase, controlled by Harry. He made it mover around in little circles in the air. It was so much easier to control! After saying the spell, all he had to do was give it small pushes with his magic to guide it around. Not like when he had made things float before. Then he had had to concentrate all the time just to not let it fall, not to mention telling his magic exactly what he wanted it to all the time. Here it was like… it just understood. And the difference in the force needed! He used almost no magic at all! No wonder it had shot up like that at first, he had been using the same amount of force as usual.

Merlin, Harry loved spells.

**A/N**

I know, this one is more of an interlude. No real action ^^' But it's a chapter in one day! Be impressed!


	8. Chapter 8

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer: **Not mine, not mine, not mine

**Warnings this chap: **None at all – I'm so boring it hurts.

**A/N: **This is not as late as the last one, but still I would like to aim for faster updates. It's not very likely though – I'm a lazy little shit.

Oh and happy premier! This update is in honor of the 7th movie and went to the premier of course – got 3 hours of sleep that night and then I went to school for 8 hours. It was… fun. I dressed up as Tom Riddle!

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

Harry kept up his experimenting the next weeks. His punishment from Petunia luckily consisted mostly of outdoors activities. Not that Harry generally enjoyed being outdoors, but it had its benefits when one was looking for discreet places to practice.

He had found an almost completely disguised area down one corner of the lawn, where he couldn't be seen from either the house or from Mrs. Figg's. He might be spotted from the street on the right side, so he still couldn't do anything too flashy, but at least his two most critical opponents (Dumbledore and the Dursleys) were completely cut off.

He couldn't' stay in his corner for too long, since Petunia wanted him in her sight at all times. She had the idea that every time her keen eyes weren't on him, he would be plotting the destruction of the world. Or just her family.

Right for once, dear Auntie.

He had the basic charms down, and even he thought did them easier than Vanessa had done when she first learned them – and she had had a wand. He also found that _lumos_ was a brilliant spell to use at night in his cupboard – for the first time he could read without a flashlight. It was much more pleasant really.

One thing that bothered him though, was the total absence of what he would call 'fun' spells. Vanessa was a completely light witch, so though he knew through her of the existence of dark magic and the unforgivables, it was nothing that had ever been tried in practice – and he really wanted it to. He needed to know dark magic too, needed to know magic that would be useful in his plans for the future. Most of all he needed to know magic that Dumbledore possibly _didn't_ know.

Vanessa's knowledge of the old wizard had only made him more wary of his self-imposed enemy. It was apparently a fact in the Wizarding world, that Albus Dumbledore was the most powerful light wizard – or wizard in general – in the last century.

That only made it more imperative for Harry to get hold of some knowledge of dark magic as soon as possible.

Which brought him to his latest dilemma – to go or not to go visit Diagon Alley.

The risk was really far too great, now that he knew he was being watched. His scar was far too noticeable and he was almost certain to be recognized. But on the other hand he really needed to get supplies for further training in magic, books about magic and potions equipment. He was really looking forward to trying potions for himself, but it would be impossible without the right resources.

The debate went back and forth in his head, and he was angry at himself for his indecision. It just wouldn't do, he was wasting time! He couldn't keep practicing minor spells, and if he wasn't going to Diagon Alley (or perhaps more precisely Knockturn) he would have to find another way to obtain knowledge of the Dark Arts.

There was another happening that made him certain that his right course was that of darkness.

It was a couple of weeks after the Vanessa-incident, when Harry was in his corner of the garden, practicing some basic transfiguration. He had been concentrating on the task at hand (turning a stone in front of him yellow and shaping it like the sun. Like I said; basic) so when a voice spoke right next to him, he jumped in shock, and had turned hurriedly, fearing very much to have been discovered.

It only unnerved him more when he saw no one.

The voice sounded again, from the grass in a nearby sunny spot_. "Silly human, doing sparkly stuff. Sparkly stuff is nono, when sleeping."_ It grumbled. Harry couldn't' help his eyebrow rising in disbelief. Was it some sort of magical creature perhaps?

Harry walked to where the voice had sounded, and found that there was in fact nothing at all magical about the voice. It was a small garden snake, lying in the sun. It had clearly been disturbed in its slumber by Harry various magical experiments.

It also clearly wasn't speaking English.

"_Big human, hovering, hovering! Hunting, hunting, hunting. Going away now, yes, hiding yes, no more sun no. Stupid human!" _The snake moved as to hide away between the bushes. Harry reached out. _"Stop!"_

The garden snake hissed in surprise and turned back towards Harry. It babbled on in its primitive language, half in fear and half in exaltation. The most prominent word in the ranting was 'speaker'.

The snaked slithered at his feet, and Harry could feel a dull kind of triumph fill him.

Well.

He certainly hadn't expected _this _development.

Harry had of course sent the snake away again. The garden snake species was not very interesting in itself, and he found the constant childlike blabbering more than annoying. But it shouldn't be too hard to find a magical species of snake, or maybe just a more impressive muggle one. And he really wanted a snake now!

The fact that he was a parselmouth was more than enough proof, to make it clear what side he belonged on. It was supposedly – at least Vanessa thought so - a gift only for descendants of Slytherin himself, and the light considered it a dark pureblood gift. A _pureblood_ gift. Which meant that either they were wrong, or his own magic blood must have countered the muggle blood from his mother for it to manifest itself in him. He could make a case for that anyway.

It would make it much easier for him to rally the purebloods.

The last known parselmouth was Lord Voldemort, and his gift had probably helped much in enabling him to become a dark lord. Of course, Harry wouldn't be able to reveal the ability before after he was out of Dumbledore's control.

And he wouldn't be able to acquire a proper snake, not one to bring to Hogwarts anyway.

Harry realized he wouldn't be able to use his gift after getting his letter. How disappointing - snakes were such elegant creatures, and he had really looked forward to getting a pet that was actually worthy of attention.

But perhaps he would be able to find a way to hide a snake with magic.

Which brought him back to getting the damn dark arts books.

It was only more imperative to make the decision, now that he was certain of his own adaptability to these arts. So, Harry decided that he wouldn't go there before he was fully convinced that he wouldn't risk being recognized. He would start immediately practicing glamours, notice-me-not charms and the color-changing spells. It should be enough.

Also, he would wear his own clothes when going there. It was close enough to the attire one would expect a pureblood heir to wear that he wouldn't be questioned.

Perhaps he could also enter from a less known entrance than the Leaky Cauldron. Vanessa had knowledge of one of the more dubious entrances at the less respectable end of the triad-area. Diagon was the shopping area, Knockturn the area for illicit activities together with the living area for the poorly creatures in the Wizarding world. But the third street in the triad was something else. Opliviaon Alley was a place – as the name suggested – for oblivion. The area was filled with clubs, whorehouses, Opium-cellars and other such indulgences. Everything pleasurable could be bought at Opliviaon.

Harry happened to know an illegal entrance through one of the lesser known bars, called The Heated Sow.

Not a place he really wanted to go, but it was less of a risk than going through the public routes. And anyway, by entering through Opliviaon he would be able to completely avoid setting foot on Diagon. People just didn't ask question at the other two alleys, so it really was a preferable way.

He still wouldn't go before he had the disguise spells down; it would be stupid to grow careless.

Now he just had to practice – and to decide how he wanted to look. The first things to get rid off were the scar and the glasses. The scar was bound to be difficult, but perhaps he could try a minor obscuration charm, and some muggle make-up on top of it.

He didn't actually know any spell for sight-correcting; he would have to make a potion. This would make that impossible too, until after his visit to the alleys. It seemed like he depend on muggle equipment this first time. How embarrassing.

Well, it shouldn't take too long to get ready then. He would get Petunia's permission to go into London city the next day, there he could order contacts and buy some make-up. Oh, and perhaps colored ones?

He would color his hair too, he could use a simple coloring charm for it. He could practice a charm for lengthening the hair too, to make it even more unrecognizable. That should be sufficient?

Yes. That was it; the rest would be a question of mannerism and attitude from his side. He would have to conceal any surprise or fear that his first meeting with the real Wizarding world should ignite, or he was sure to be taken advantage of.

The obscuration charm turned out to be relatively easy and he decided to use it in the future when he had to hide bruises. It was effective enough that combined with the muggle make-up, one wouldn't notice anything different – and it would be easier than concealing things with clothes. The makeup would probably also make it harder for a wizard to notice the use of magic.

He did make the mistake of trying the lengthening of his hair before absolutely necessary, resulting only in angering Vernon. Had to do a lot of cowering and sweet talking afterwards, since he needed to be in his relatives good graces – soon he would have to go pick up his new contacts.

The ordering of them had gone without a hitch, so the retrieving had better go just as easy. He predicted he would be able to sneak away to the Alleys in the Christmas vacation when the Dursleys were stuffing themselves and ignoring him. His preparations would be done by then.

Harry went and got the contacts the week after. It was a bit of a gamble, since he hadn't given the shop owner any address, and thus had no way of knowing if they were done. Luckily they were, and Harry only had to do some minor threatening to get them to hand them over without his guardian's signature. At first they weren't very intimidated by the 8-year-old boy, but apparently he could be very unnerving when he tried. Not many children were as cold as him.

He was going to try out his disguise tonight when the Dursleys went to bed. The first of December was in three days, so he would have time to perfect it – to make the details right. He had an understanding of wizard wears through Vanessa, but he hadn't tried it for himself before, so he would have to be extra cautious to not miss any details.

At ten he was locked in the Cupboard. The hair lengthening charm went quickly, and he let it do its job, stopping it just past the shoulders. He chose a deep red color and used the coloring charm. Then he carefully took out the contacts and after casting a cleaning charm – the warnings about dirt getting in the eye with the contacts were very thorough – he gently put them in.

I occurred to him that he should get new glasses. The world had a lot of details he was missing.

He cast the obscuration charm on his forehead and got out the make-up, trying to put it evenly on his skin. He would have to practice this a bit it seemed, applying make-up was turning out harder than he expected.

Last he put on his clothes. He salvaged the feeling of new clothes and the knowledge that it belonged to him alone. He really had to get away from here as soon as possible, he couldn't bear the thought of missing the feeling for the next 2 and a half years.

His disguise was finished. Now he only had to conjure a mirror and get the details in order, he didn't see the point in risking going to the bathroom and being heard. Besides, it was a chance of practice.

The spell was a bit trickier than he had practiced before (the texture of melted glass was hard to get down, and even harder to make from air molecules) but he succeeded.

Studying himself in the new endowment in his little cupboard, he frowned at his hair. It was very messy. It was even more noticeable than when he had short hair, flowing wildly around his head. He didn't like it. Perhaps he would search through his spell arsenal for a hair curling spell, it would perhaps help.

What he did like was his contacts. His eyes looked much wider (and prettier, but Harry didn't notice that of course) than usually, and the light grey color he had chosen fit perfectly with the color of his slipover. It was very elegant.

Someone else might have said he looked cute. Harry didn't – he thought he looked imposing. Oh well, as imposing as an 8-year-old would ever be.

He was ready.

**A/N:**

And that's it. Cut! Next one will be Diagon I think. I just couldn't resist it you know – even though it's too great a risk really. Oh well. I'm the author I decide!

Also, I'll be posting a oneshot or two soon – look out for it!

See you next round! :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer: **The plot is mine, Opliviaon is made from the parts of my brain that doesn't believe that wizards don't have whores and drugs, and any OOC-ness is certainly also mine. The rest belongs to JK - she doesn't believe in decadence.

**Warnings this chap: **Attempted rape of a minor, violence and mind-rape of the magical sort.

**A/N: **Hi guys :D Happy New Year! And happy birthday to Tom Riddle…

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

The night was bright with the Christmas lights from the identical houses when Harry sneaked out. Even the holiday couldn't break the decorum of the muggles – they even bought identical decoration and hung it up in identical patterns.

The Dursleys where watching some sort of Christmas show in the television, and even if Harry hadn't been as stealthy as his caution had bidden him, it was doubtful they would have noticed anything less of an earthquake. Harry had changed his clothes and put on the make-up/concealment charm and contacts, but had decided to do the hair later. He wouldn't risk any neighbors seeing him with his new strange appearance, since he had no explanation for suddenly having long curly hair. And the red color would undoubtedly make any sane muggle think he colored it, which really wasn't something he needed them to tell the Dursleys.

With a wandless alohomora he was able to get out of the locked cupboard easily.

He boarded a subway train at the nearest station, and promptly locked himself in the bathroom, making sure no one saw him entering. He was going to change his appearance rather radically in a very short amount of time, and he didn't want any before/after confusions with passing muggles.

The lengthening and coloring charms were quickly applied, his movements practiced. Then he had to concentrate a bit more as he trailed different parts of his hair with his fingers, making them wave in big soft curls. His hair was looking very neat compared to usual, and very proper. The length wasn't common with muggle children or even magical anymore, but it would help him fit in, since it was more acceptable there. The head of a wizarding house would often grow his hair long, and the persona harry had made was exactly that. The head of a house.

He had chosen a muggle last name that could have been that of wizard, Crowe. He had no recollection of hearing about a wizarding family with that name, so hopefully he could pass as the last heir of some obscure and forgotten bloodline.

Of course the best was if he didn't have to use his fake identity at all, but he would risk running into someone he couldn't evade when he ventured into Gringotts. In Knockturn and Opliviaon he could just intimidate anyone talking to him into submission, or in worst case scenario run like heck. In Diagon that would call far too much attention to him.

So yet again he'd been (maybe overly) cautious and had prepared a fake identity, that of Nathaniel Crowe, the last heir of the Crowe family. He was the head of his bloodline because his parents had both died in the war. His father's name had been Leander Crowe, and his mother had been Josalyn Selene, the heir of a French family Harry knew to be so old and have so many off springs that no one would be able to prove at there had in fact never been a Josalyn who married a British wizard.

He had decided that both of them would have been on the dark side when they died, since that would only be proper when he himself was a dark wizard in the making. His father had stayed low in Voldemort's ranks of his own desire, because, though he wanted to help the cause, he did not want to bring risk to his family. A precaution that went moot when some light wizards followed him home after a raid and killed him and Nathaniel's mother in front of the boy, after raping her. He had been hidden inside the closet at the time.

Harry had decided to play up his age at least a year so that the downfall of the dark lord would have happen when he was 2½ instead of when he was 1½. That way he could claim to remember his parent's death still, and it would explain both his hate for Dumbledore and the light side in general, and how he had survived on his own. House elf care could only do so much.

Generally the fact that he was an orphaned pureblood wizard would explain his adult attitude and independence.

Harry left nothing to chance.

He had previously consulted several subway maps to find the stop nearest his destination. He had to switch to another train at one point, but it worked out.

He didn't actually go in through an opening on Charing Cross road, but on Great Newport Street right next to. The opening was not through a shop of any kind but in a small alley filled with garbage. One of the walls, the one on the right, would open into the back of The Heated Sow if you tapped one the bricks 5 times. It was the one with the engraved pig, just to show creativity.

Harry found it easily and checked over his appearance one last time, before taking a deep breath and tapping his finger accordingly. The trashcan on his right opened its back, and Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste, but went through it.

He found himself in a small room stinking of sweat and booze. A staircase went up over him, so that the 'door' he had come in through was partially hidden. The opening in front of the staircase lead in to what was obviously the main serving room, if one was to go by the sounds of laughter, shouting and brawls coming from it. Harry schooled his features into cool indifference, but his heart was beating hard and fast.

The opening behind him had disappeared, and Harry saw it has a sign to move on.

It was about 9 pm at the moment, and business would be building up in the bar, people coming in through the door all the time. No one noticed Harry sneaking in. He tried not to stare incredulously at the people surrounding him. He had been aware of this, he told himself. It didn't help him, since he obviously hadn't been fully prepared no matter the knowledge given to him.

It was one thing to know that vampires, demons, giants and goblins existed. It was another entirely to see various types and combinations of these with your own eyes.

Green men, tiny men, women with two heads, cat eyes, wings, fangs, one man big enough to have to take 3 chairs for himself, a fairy no bigger than his hand drinking heavily from a thimble.

Some party.

The wizards and witches seemed positively normal in comparison, even with their rather strange clothing and very strange hats. Harry refused to ever wear such a hat, even if wizards thought it fetching. He _didn't._

The alley outside was already coated in darkness, and Harry wondered if maybe they had perma-night spells on. It set the mood for the place pretty good.

Everywhere you looked there were people and laughter. Big shining advertisements for different sources of pleasure surrounded him and all the buildings where lit up with colored lights. Whorehouses and sexclubs everywhere you looked. Harry tried not to.

And outside and in the dark corners you could see the scarcely dressed women, men and even children standing; those who weren't pretty or fortunate enough to be part of the bigger pimp-cycles and couldn't afford rooms for their services. Harry almost pitied them, but shrugged it off. If they were too stupid or too arrogant to use the obvious opportunity of the inferior muggle world to raise them self beyond this, they didn't deserve his pity.

It was… not a pretty place. But still, Harry found it exciting in that nameless way danger always is. It was wild and bad in a way that felt like fun. Not that Harry was here to have fun, but he could imagine coming back here when he was older, not to indulge in sex or drugs or whatever, he didn't need that and doubted he would, but maybe to practice his dark arts and to get a feel for the darker parts of the wizarding world. He planned to live it – might as well get used to it at an early age.

Harry snorted, he sounded old to his own ears.

Slowly he walked down the street, keeping to the many shadows. Of course, everyone kept to the shadows here, since no one wanted to be recognized. He took in the things he saw, trying to filter out the more perverted things he witnesses and focus on whatever might be learned of magic from this. He might be an extraordinarily mature 8-year-old but even he didn't appreciate watching people pay to be raped by animagi-wolfs in packs and things like it. He sure as hell was never going anywhere near _Animagi Empire – your bestiality pleasure palace_ again.

When he was nearing the entrance to Knockturn (you had to go through there to gain access to Diagon) a hand suddenly grabbed his shoulder, turning him around. Behind him a filthy man with long messed up hair, cluttered with dirt, grinned at him. The man was about twice Harry's size, or so it seemed, and when he smiled down at Harry he could easily see the man's magnified canines. Although every tooth in his mouth seemed to be sharp and pointed, so Harry really couldn't be sure just _what_ the man was. Might be a born werewolf.

Harry raised an eyebrow and gave the man a cold look.

"Oi, boy. How much?"

Harry didn't try to mask his appalled look. "Excuse me? Do I look like I'm for sale?"

The wereman's grin only widened. Harry felt a tiny bit uneasy, but masked it. It wasn't like he hadn't foreseen something like it, though he'd really been more prepared for muggers than rapists.

With a bit of wandless magic behind his strength, he easily brushed off the man's hand.

The man growled making Harry's hypotheses seem more likely. Born werewolf indeed.

"You're for sale if I tell you to be boy!"

Harry wrinkled his nose in distaste. "You smell foul and your appearance is lacking in more than one area, hygiene being the most prominent. You are not touching me, now or ever. Now if you will excuse me."

He turned to leave, but the man grabbed him again, both shoulders this time, and pushed him up against a nearby wall, face to the bricks. People were walking past them, pretending not to notice. Or maybe they really didn't notice - this would be a common occurrence.

The man pushed a thick thigh in between Harry's spreading them, and Harry could hear him tearing open buttons. Since he hadn't been wearing a shirt, it really could only be one place.

Harry was beyond annoyed now, and was beginning to feel decidedly angry. And maybe a little scared. Maybe.

With an angry huff he concentrated on his wandless magic just enough to make the man release him a bit. That way he could turn around and catch the yellow gaze of his would be-rapist, doing what he did best. Mind magic, legilimensy, was still his most cherished skill.

He wrecked the man's mind, not being careful at all, and decided now was as good a time as ever to try out the whole nerve-center business. Just a little, he didn't have time to play.

The web was as confusing as always, but Harry had progressed since he last looked at it. He was good at the requesting thing now, and only had to surround the mass of threads with magic, taking control of it.

He could feel the man's mental powers fighting against him. Werewolves had some natural affinity for occlumensy, but it didn't seem as if though the man had practiced it at all. Harry was still the strongest.

The power struggle was over quickly, and when Harry had full control of the nerve-center, he gave his first command.

_Pain in both legs. They have been cut off._

The man's screams echoed through his mind. Or the man's, it didn't matter at the moment.

He could feel in his neck when he didn't have to look up any longer, because his victim had fallen to his knees.

Time for the second.

_You are burning. Your hair is on fire._

There was pure panic now, sobs. Harry felt his breath quicken, and he relished in it.

At a sudden brush of inspiration, and to satisfy his scientific curiosity, Harry tried a third command.

_Silver. You are encased in silver._

The scream now was animalistic, nothing human in it. It was pure agony, and Harry felt for the first time a spot of doubt. He tried to keep it out, but found he didn't really enjoy this punishment anymore.

He let go.

When he opened his eyes, of course the first thing he saw was his rapist turned victim. Though the man hardly looked like himself.

Now that Harry had let go of his mind he was free to do what he liked again, but he hadn't moved from the spot. He was kneeling in a pool of his own urine, the imagined pain having obviously released his blather. Around him strands of hair was scattered as he had ripped them out of his head. He had been scratching deep gushes in his arms and chest trying to get off the silver. Only there weren't any silver so now he was instead bleeding from numerous places.

Harry carefully stepped around the disgusting puddle on the floor and out to the street again. He straightened his clothes.

People had obviously noticed the incident as many of them was staring at Harry in awe or fear. Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Oh _all right_, raping 8-year-olds, happens all the time, but if they defend themselves it's something to remark upon.

People were whispering to each other and pointing at him, Harry had no doubt that the incident would be all over the alley in no time. Well at least he wouldn't be assaulted again.

He tried to reign in his magic completely again. The experimenting had caused his magic to swirl around him, betraying his excitement. He had really been looking forward to getting to play with the nerve-center, and he hadn't been disappointed. He feared he might develop an unhealthy obsession with this if he didn't watch out – there was something special about causing others pain without ever touching them. And being inside their brains all the while, feeling their fear intimately…

Harry shuddered in delight. His only regret was not being able to see his victim while he did it, but he might find a way to do that at some point.

Right now he had better things to do. The wereman had slowed him down, and he was on a tight schedule if he was to be back in Surrey before Petunia opened his cupboard in the morning and found him missing.

**A/N:**

That's it for now! Next chapter will be up very soon, since I'll try to finish it before I start school again. Did everybody read my twoshot? Oh and btw, I uploaded a sketch of Nathaniel on DA. Go check it out if you want, but don't expect miracles – I'm not an artist here ;D Link is on the profile, same as the one for the Dedication and Discipline illustrations obviously.


	10. Chapter 10

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the Harry Potter universe. If I did, there would be no doubt in your minds. I assure you, the change would be noticeable.

**Warnings this chap: **None. Still fun though.

**A/N: **So yeah, a bit late, but I started writing a oneshot for a challenge on the side. And Star Wars fandom caught my eye! Go vote on the poll on my profile if you didn't already.

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

Knockturn Alley was more interesting than Opliviaon had been, even if it wasn't any less creepy. The laughter and decadence was gone from the mood, and instead everyone was jumpy and sending each other suspicious glances. People still walked in the shadows.

The shops were interesting though. Many of them dealt with less than legal artifacts and books, and Harry saw several shops he wanted to visit as soon as he had money. He didn't let himself linger though, since he had a limited amount of time and the priority was accessing Gringotts and determining if and when he would be allowed into the Potter family vault, and possibly if he could get money without alerting any magical authorities. That was essential for his future visits to the Alleys and the wizarding world in general.

Also, he thought it far beneath him to gaze at anything with stars in his eyes, no matter its supposed fascinating abilities.

Which was why he was trying not to.

He largely succeeded too. Most of the time.

Harry sighed. Okay, he was being pathetic at the moment, but thus were the harsh realities of being eight. Sometimes your age just caught up with you. He would persevere.

When he spotted the bright entrance to the 'respectable' Diagon Alley, he took a moment to straighten out his clothes and conjure a small mirror to check that the rest of his appearance was impeccable as well. When that was done he moved swiftly into the Alley walking with purpose, so as to avoid any questioning from people who would without a doubt think him lost.

Diagon wasn't at all as interesting as Knockturn. It was a cheery place with lanterns hanging out in front of little cafés and coffeeshops. People where still milling about the Alley, since the shops were open late.

Everything there was bright and glamorous, trying to impress, but Harry didn't see any reason to be impressed by flashiness, when just around the corner you could be impressed by magic and knowledge.

He continued his determined stroll among the many people, heading straight for the large white building at the end. Gringotts could be seen from anywhere on the alley. He pretended not to notice the looks he got from surrounding wizards and witches, some clearly scrutinizing and trying to find out what family he was from since his clothes and attitude was screaming old money, and others, the majority, wondering about who he could be and why he was alone. Harry cursed his age.

The people in the bank were sending him looks too, but the goblins were ignoring him. Which was fine, because Harry was staring rather rudely at first. Again the principle of the difference between knowing and seeing.

He got his bearings together soon though, and made his way hesitantly to one of the counters with a goblin behind it. He needed to know if he had access to any of the Potter vaults or if he would have to get money by himself.

When Harry walked out the bank an hour later, he was feeling rather angry. As it turned out his parents had left him a big trust vault with founds enough to cover the next, say, _50 years_ of Harry's life. Only Dumbledore hadn't seen it fit to inform him of this, or in any way let him have _his own bloody money. _Instead he'd used his power as Supreme Mugwump to close the vault down until Harry reached school age, and even then only allowing them to let him in when he was in the presence of an adult with Dumbledore's own authorization.

Of course, the goblins didn't care about the Wizangamot at all and had been more than happy to let him in.

Still, it was the principle of things! He was really feeling his hatred for the old man at the moment. And his annoyance was only magnified by the goblins refusing him access to his family vault before he came of age, because 'their traditions forbid them'. Silly little creatures.

Now, with about 3 hours left before he had to be back at the Dursley's to pretend he had been there all the time, Harry had to prioritize what to buy. Books first of course. Then maybe some potions equipment? Yes, that had to be the most important. Also, he should definitely buy an outdoor robe. It was getting colder, and his outfit would stick out if he didn't.

He walked past Flourish and Blott's without even stopping. That was not where he would find the books he needed – he would come back for to flesh out his collection some other day, when he had read the dark arts books and felt settled to exploit other parts of magic. Instead he stopped in front of Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions debating with himself whether to go in or not. It was the only Robe shop on Diagon he knew of, but on the other hand, he really didn't want to deal with it.

Sighing, he went in.

The witch – as predicted – fussed over him extensively and kept asking him about his parents. Harry mostly ignored her or answered in single syllables.

He ended up ordering two everyday robes, dark green and black with silver lining, and an outdoor cloak in dark grey with a silver fur lining he found almost irresistible. She only had to do some minor edits and some serious shrinking before it fit.

At the corner at the entrance to Knockturn alley, Harry walked into someone. As in literally. The small, almost disguised entrance made it impossible to see people walking towards you until they were right in front of you, and Harry evidently hadn't been paying attention. He gave a sharp disgruntled sound as his forehead collided with a very male chest. He had the time to notice the tensing of the body in front of him, before he was stumbling back, trying to get his bearings.

He looked up with an angry scowl. Looking down at him, with annoyance shining out of every feature, was Lucius Malfoy.

Harry quickly ran through everything he knew of the man. It wasn't much, but apparently it had been enough for him to recognize him. A pureblood and a politician. Some brawl and suspicion after the war ended. Had he been a death eater?

Harry blanked his face. He brushed his clothes of and picked up his shopping bag from Madam Malkin's, which he'd dropped when they'd collided.

Malfoy was eying him curiously now, obviously noticing his lack of parents and his rather obvious route towards Knockturn. Not exactly a place most little boys went.

Also, his disguise would make the pureblood ask himself who Harry was. The Wizarding pureblood society was a closed circle, at least, the light ones were. Harry was guessing the dark might be even worse. So a politically interested pureblood would do his best to know every single one.

Harry wasn't known. Therefore he was interesting.

Which really sucked for Harry's incognito plans.

"I'm sorry, I did not see you. You are not hurt?"

Harry mutely shook his head, determined to get the conversation over with before it actually became a conversation.

"That's good then. Tell me, what are you doing here? Are you lost?"

Harry didn't answer at first, trying to figure out what to do. The man narrowed his eyes slightly, but continued, pretending not to notice Harry's hesitation. Harry mentally hit himself.

"Oh how terribly rude of me, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Lucius Malfoy. What is your name, child?"

He put an extra empathizing on his last name. Harry didn't roll his eyes, but it was close.

"I'm Nathaniel Crowe Sir. And no, I am not lost."

Lucius' eyebrows went up a bit. Clearly he hadn't expected Harry to be quite as confident in his manner. In reality Harry _wasn't_ feeling very confident at the moment.

"That is… good I suppose. But tell me then, where are your parents. And Crowe…"

He trailed of, probably trying to remember where he'd heard the name before. Harry saw this as a good time to put his new persona to the test.

"My parents are dead. I am the last living Crowe, and thus Head of the Family."

Lucius' eyes narrowed. Harry resisted the urge to swallow nervously.

"I see. A Head of family so young… Do you have no living relatives? And please enlighten me young one, as to where exactly the Crowe family resides."

It wasn't working. Harry would have to put some serious attitude on, or Lucius was going to look through him any moment.

"No. I do not have any living relatives, and this is really none of your business. My family home is unplottable, and I see no reason to change that for a passing stranger, not even you Mr. Malfoy."

Harry gave Lucius a cold, insulted look. This time he seemed to have put the right amount of snobbish into it, since the man's distrustful face shifted into one of interest.

Which wasn't so great either, since having a politically powerful man interested in you could be rather stunting for your freedom.

He would just have to be sneaky.

"My apologies, Mr. Crowe. You are right; it is none of my business."

Harry decided this was as good a time as ever to make his escape.

"Apology accepted. It was a pleasure meeting you Mr. Malfoy." He gave a small polite bow, and moved determinedly around the man, walking briskly down Knockturn Alley. He could feel Lucius' eyes on his back the whole way.

It didn't take long for Harry to find a bookstore with the appropriate amount of evil aura to indicate useful books. Actually the Alley was full of them. The big problem would be finding the right one.

Well, he didn't have the time needed to determine that, so he just walked into the nearest, a creepy place called Obscurum Invictus. Cheery name too.

The books were actually neatly places on shelf all around the little shop. There wasn't a spot on the wall not covered with a bookshelf. Harry found it almost cozy, even though the books in themselves gave of ominous waves. Some of them were clearly cursed, since they were huddling in the shelfes, shaking and growling and seemingly alive.

Harry wouldn't be buying that sort just yet.

Instead he went around looking at the titles, bypassing the more interesting ones for some basics. He found one called _Dark and Neutral Arts and the slight Difference_ by a Nicodemus Gardings and one called _Hexes and Curses for the little Prankster_ that he wanted to buy. Not that he was planning on pranking people, but it had to be somewhat easy spells. He would have to do them without a wand after all. And this time without any background knowledge from Vanessa.

After finding the two easy books, he picked one about Magical theory, one on Legilimency and Occlumency, one on Potions and finally he gave into the temptation and bought an advanced Dark Arts book with torture spells. He _probably _wouldn't use them, but let's just say it was for reading in his free time.

He paid the scowling man behind the counter, sparing nothing but an icy look. He was sure the man was wondering what the heck he would need the books for, but Harry would gladly let him think he was shopping for someone else to curb the man's curiosity.

And anyway, anyone who showed interest in Harry would have no idea where to start looking for information. Considering that he didn't really exist that is.

Hopefully Lucius wouldn't be too frustrated.

The books bought, Harry stopped in an Apothecary on his way back through Knockturn. He only bought a set of the most common ingredients and potions kit, figuring he would come back for more if he needed something specific.

His bag was becoming very heavy to carry.

Maybe next time he would buy some kind of fancy trunk with a Featherlight charm.

At the moment though he was a bit busy. He had about an hour and a half left, and he had to get on train and sneak in the house. The trip through Opliviaon was bound to take some time too, if he was to avoid getting in another brawl with someone.

He noticed with some amusement, that there were already people recognizing him. He supposed it _had _been a pretty public display back there with the _dog_, some of them was bound to have seen it – and passed it on. Gossip thrived between whorehouses and alcohol.

Luckily most people where too far gone to notice anything.

And the good thing was that no one thought to approach him this time.

Two hours later, back in his cupboard, Harry concluded that going to the Alleys had been a success. He had gotten what he came for, hadn't been recognized and there had only been some minor interferences. And now he had all the time in the world to look through his new books.

He was hiding away his new things behind one of the wooden panels that he had loosened with magic. The muggles would never find it there, and he had free access.

He wouldn't get any sleep the next many nights.

**A/N: **Finally! It's finished!

I have to tell you – I really hate writing (and reading) shopping scenes, since no matter what you do, they just become cliché. So I'm glad it's done… Next chap will be a time jump!


	11. Chapter 11

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer: **Don't own shit, and you better not talk about it, cus I might just kill you.

**Warnings this chap: **None

**A/N: **I'm so sorry for how late this is. It's been almost a year! All I can say is – I've done a lot of growing up this year. I had my first serious BDSM relationship, which stole a lot of my time and all of my creativity ^^' I was so excited about my RL that I forgot about my fandom. My life has changed some, and I've a lot of new experiences.

All of this is just excuses, but I promise you, as I have before, that this will never get abandoned. I hate abandoned stories! I'm trying to get over my writers block by posting what I have. This is in short, a filler. Nothing happens, but I need it to get started again! Please… don't hate me.

Don't know if you have all noticed the oneshot I posted, like, 4 months ago? Gift-fic for the 100th reviewer. See? It pays off to review.

As I said last chap, there's a time-jump. Harry is ten now.

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

Harry was reading a book.

He was in his cupboard again, though the place was barely recognizable from a few years back.

The interior wasn't at all the same. One of the few small tweak he'd dared made in his relative's brains was the strong urge to _not _look into the cupboard. A necessity, because Harry would have a hard time explaining how he had used the spells he'd learned the past years to not only make his room big enough to fit in a small wardrobe and a real bed, but also to shape a huge bookshelf into the wall, one that was big enough to hold all his purchases from the Alleys.

There were rather many at this point. Harry had made it a habit to go to the Alleys once every other month and buy some books and potions supplies, plus to get information about the on-goings in the Wizarding world. He would sometimes - if he had the time, that is - hang around in a café in Diagon or a bar in Knockturn or Opliveaon to watch the wizards and witches and glean information from their conversations.

This had brought him a good understanding of the traditions and the mannerism in Wizarding world, not to mention a huge collection of books.

Harry felt more at home in the Wizarding world than in the muggle at this point, which was how it should be. He was _not _after all, a muggle. He was a first generation pureblood, and heir to the Potter family, and he was proud of it.

Harry did not have as many chores to do for his relatives anymore (guess why), so it was only lunchtime. He had planned to stay inside his cupboard and read, and preferably avoid the ruckus, but even from in there it was impossible. You see, it wasn't any other day, it was Dudley's birthday, so of course the Dursley family had been even more annoying than usual.

The morning had been one long unbearable ritual of gift-opening and cake that was cut early for Dudderkins sake. Harry had gone through his own morning routine in the background, pretending that his relatives didn't exist. Mostly because if they did, he'd have to kill them for being so annoying, and that would be a bit premature.

Piers Polkins had come over a short while ago and the noise level had – if possible – raised yet another notch. Harry had almost given up on the book he was reading. (_Dark Magicks – yay or nay?_ A modern underground piece that was being sold cheaply in Knockturn. It touched upon some interesting points.)

The sounds at the moment indicated that Dudley was once again complaining about something or other.

Sighing Harry closed his book.

Well, he would just go to the Alleys then – it had been a while anyway. And it would get him out of the house.

Harry put on his own trousers and shoes and packed a small bag with his shirt and wallet. He would put the shirt on when he was in the subway as always. He was also good enough at his glamour to put it on with a thought, so his alter ego was as ready as need be.

Unfortunately Vernon called him over the moment he left his cupboard.

"Look boy, Dudley says he wants to go to the Zoo. But Petunia and I aren't about to leave you alone to destroy our home. So you will have to go over to the crazy old Figg-lady this afternoon, you got it?"

Petunias screeching voice cut in.

"But Vernon, dear! The dreadful lady is on vacation, remember?"

Dudley started crying.

Harry felt like killing someone. Preferably several someones who were in close proximity.

Vernon looked like he was thinking very hard, a very rare look on the man. "Well – I suppose he will just have to go with us then."

Dudley wailed so loudly that even Petunia the forever-deaf when it came to her obnoxious son, felt the need to hush him.

Harry simply looked at the whale without comprehension and then proceeded to walk in a big circle around him towards the door. Vernon grabbed his arm.

"Where do you think you're going freak?" His face was going through the first stages of its transformation towards grape.

"Out" Was Harry simple answer, but seeing as Vernon did not seem to understand the concept, he felt the need to clarify. "You don't want me alone in the house. Dudderkins don't want me to come to the zoo. So I'm leaving."

Vernon didn't look like the logic struck a chord.

"Do you think we are going to just let you wander around causing trouble while were gone? Why you…" He looked like he was going to grab Harry, and Petunia's shrill voice supplied him with another well-used argument: "What would the neighbors say?"

Harry struggled with his homicidal urges for several seconds of silence. Then he gave his most pleasant (read: creepy) smile and gave a mocking half-bow. "Well, let us proceed to the car then." Vernon blinked stupidly a couple of times, and then frowned suspiciously. The horse-face was busy stuffing candy bars into Dudley's face to shut him up.

Harry walked past Vernon, careful not to let any part of his body come in connection with the mountain of filth. Upon reaching the car, he turned back towards the Dursleys. "Come on, you don't want the neighbors to stare, do you?"

The car ride was spent in uncomfortable silence. Well, uncomfortable for everyone but Harry, who was too busy being pleased (and creepy) to notice. He'd just remembered an old idea that would be the perfect pastime. After discovering he was parselmouth he'd sometimes picked up a snake for short conversations, but he had never encountered any very interesting species. The magical snakes available in Knockturn were always very poisonous and therefore kept in close view by the shop owners. Which meant Harry had no way to converse with them without revealing his ability, something he had no interest in.

Therefore he had at some point decided that he would have to go to a muggle zoo, to find out if all snakes were as insipid as those he had met so far. After all, there wasn't much use in being able to converse with snakes, if all of them had the mentality of 5-year-olds.

He had forgotten about the plan until recently, being more focused on visiting the magical world, than a common muggle amusement park, but this was as good an opportunity as he would ever get. And though the subject wasn't very important to him, it was still something he had looked into. After all, there was no logical reason for him to be a parselsmouth, as far as he could understand.

He had bought a few books on the subject of parseltongue, but they turned out to be utter rubbish. It was clear that none of them were written by a parselmouth, and that information on the subject was generally sparse. But from he'd gathered, parseltongue were only to be found in the bloodline of Salazar Slytherin, a man who's last descendant had supposedly died about 300 years ago.

This little fact had of course made Harry curious.

Mind you, not curious enough to override his interest in learning and researching more magic, since it had no immediate use, but enough that he could appreciate this silly little trip.

He could always go to the Alleys some other time. In fact, if his calculations were correct, he'd be going there soon no matter what. After all, his birthday was fast approaching, and with it his Hogwarts letter. This parody would soon end – and a new game would finally get started, the main players being one Harry James Potter and one Albus Dumbledore.


	12. Chapter 12

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shouta

**Disclaimer: Warnings this chap: **None

**A/N: **Hello there. It has yet again been far too long a wait, for far too short a chapter! I must admit that I've been consumed by other fandoms (Sherlock BBC, Inglourious Basterds, Avengers etc.) and have neglecting you people. I'm sorry! I spend most of my time on Tumblr . I stand by what I said, this WILL be finished. Might not be particularly fast, but it'll get there. If you want to see some of my fanfiction for other fandoms, or get my Tumblr URL, please say so.

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

The zoo was filled with people. It was sunny weather outside, so it seemed most of the parents in London had decided it was a brilliant idea to drag their screaming infants out to look at animals. Harry had, upon arriving at the gate, only hung around the Dursleys long enough to have them pay his entrance fee. Then he had made an immediate beeline for the reptile house.

Petunia's shrill voice had shouted after him, but he'd ignored her and they didn't follow him. He was able to maneuver around the crowd much easier than any of them anyway, being small and fit as opposed to very fat.

At the moment Harry was looking inside one of the terrariums just to the side of the entrance. A brownish snake was curled around one of the branches on the small tree set up in there. He had yet to speak to it, and it seemed to be asleep.

It didn't look very intelligent.

Harry wondered if it was even worth the risk, small as that might be. He doubted wizards went to the zoo, and he couldn't sense any, but really? Parseltongue in the middle of a crowd. Not exactly wise.

Fuck it.

"_Wake up." _It was just a soft hiss, but the snake opened its eyes with a start, and raised its – surprisingly pitch black - head to stare at him. "_Yes, I spoke; can we get over the awe part and start an actual conversation?" _Harry asked impatiently. To his surprise the snake gave a drawn out hiss that could only be translated to laughter.

"_You think I would be in awe of you, young wizard?" _There was sibilant scorn in that comment, but Harry didn't give it much thought being rather preoccupied by the fact that the snake was actually stringing together coherent sentences. _"Forgive me if I am wrong, but my experience and my books tell me that it is not exactly common to have the ability to talk to snakes. Previous run-ins with serpents have been dreary and filled with unnecessary babbling pertaining to this skill. Thus, my preemptive measures. " _

At this the snake uncoiled further and tilted its head. "_It is indeed not common, but being an oddity is not enough to gain acknowledgement, hatchling. I, myself is rather rare. Do you, perchance, harbor any awe for me?" _Harry shook his head, conceding the point.

"_What kind of snake are you then?" _The snake didn't bother to answer, just flicked its tail to the sign to the left of the terrarium.

'Western Taipan – It is a rare snake, found in north-eastern areas of South Australia. Its venom is the most toxic known for any terrestrial snake in the world.'

Harry was mildly impressed. "_Do you know why you are more intelligent than garden snakes and such?" _ He asked, hoping there could be an easy way of getting his answers.

The Taipan gave the equivalent of a shrug. _"I presume it has to do with several things. My general experience is that intelligence increases with lethality." _Harry nodded slowly. It made no logical sense that it should make a difference, but it was a place to start his research.

He glanced around, seeing that he was alone in room. "_What is your name?" _It was a bit late for introductions, but he thought it fitting.

The snake simply looked at him. "_What are you called by others?"_ He clarified.

"_I am generally know to others as the one who bites hard with his words"_

Well, that was hardly worth using. It wasn't so much a name as a way to identify this snake in comparison to others. How absolutely useless. "_Well, I have a name. A name is one or more words that identify individuals. If I let you out now, I want you to remember my name and tell it to others. Tell them to gather at Hogwarts, the wizard forest near there, if they want to do something a little more exciting with their life than slithering around looking for the next tasty mouse."_

The Taipan had visibly perked up at the mention of being let out. It did seem to be a rather dull existence it had. "_And what _name_ shall I give them?"_

"_Nathaniel the Speaker." _As a spur of the moment, Harry decided to go with his false name instead of his real. There was only one person who would hear about it from the snakes ever, and that person was most likely dead, but still. Caution never hurt anyone.

The snake gave an affirmative hiss, practically bursting with eagerness. So even intelligent snakes had their weaknesses.

"_Maybe we will meet again"_

With that conclusive statement, Harry focused his magic in his hands, using his magic to wandlessly transfiguring the glass separating him and the snake into a small glad cube instead. It was much easier than vanishing it.

Knowing the Taipan wouldn't get far on its own, he extended a hand to it. "_Hide under the fabric, I'll get you out of here."_

The snake hesitantly slithered up his wrist, curling there. It was not exactly invisible, but if he was lucky people would think it a strange, big bracelet. He transfigured the glass back to its original form. It would be a while before anyone noticed that the serpent was missing. The end of the day at least.

He walked out of the Reptile house as inconspicuously as possible. When he got to the entrance, he let the snake – who had been wiggling around through it all, despite Harry's hissed admonishments – go off into the bushes on one side.

"_Don't bite any humans, or they will start searching for you." _He hissed after it, trying to keep his voice down even though the snake was moving fast away.

Well, time would tell whether this would lead to anything useful.


	13. Chapter 13

**Warnings: **child abuse, homicide, slash-sex, bdsm, spanking, torture, lots of kinks and Chan/Shota

**Warnings this chap: **None

**A/N: **Once again, late. Not as late as last time, but still. I'm not even going to apologize. I think most of your have realized by now that my focus isn't on this fandom. I repeat, I _will_ finish this story. But it will be slow coming. I'm not saying I won't try to be faster. I will. But you see, it's my last year in high school coming up, and I really do want good grades. The only reason this chapter is here is that I have summer vacation. I might write more in the next few weeks.

**Behind Green Eyes**

By AtrumMaximus

The day his Hogwarts letter finally arrived, Harry was more than ready. He hadn't been sure exactly when they would send the invitations out, be he knew for certain that his would come this year. So it was with restrained pleasure he snatched the robust letter from the pile of bills and such, its tell-tale parchment giving it away. He didn't bother to touch the others, opting to go directly to his cupboard to read.

The contents were as was expected. He had half been wondering if there would be a more personal note to explain things in depth, since Dumbledore had to be aware how little he supposedly knew. How confusing this would have been for him had he not done his own kind of research. But there was nothing, once again labeling the old man as a complete bastard.

The supply list was almost identical to the one he could remember from his other memories. The curriculum had barely changed since then, though the DADA book was not the same. How… boring.

Harry debated with himself whether to go to the Alleys without a disguise or as Nathaniel. He was well-known as Nathaniel so he would have to make sure nobody saw him buy first years books, but on the other hand he was sure to be bothered as Harry Potter. And he wouldn't be able to go anywhere but Diagon.

In the end, he decided to go as Harry Potter but bring his disguise. No doubt Dumbledore had someone on the lookout for him, so it wouldn't do for him to not make an appearance. Then when he had been seen buying supplies, he could change and do the spells that made him Nathaniel. He would need to find a nook to do it in, but it shouldn't be a problem. He knew Diagon pretty well at this point, though it was hardly the alley he spent most time in when he visited the triads.

That decided, Harry saw no reason to wait. If he didn't show up in Diagon one of these days, Dumbledore would probably send one of his goons to be Harry's guide and he really didn't have the patience for that. He'd write the return letter, accepting his place at Hogwarts and then make the venture to the Alleys this afternoon. The packing took only a few seconds, and he wrote his answer on the back of his acceptance letter with a fountain pen. He had parchment and quills in his cupboard but it would seem rather strange if the teachers at Hogwarts noticed.

He didn't bother telling the Dursleys where he was going, but simply walked to the subway at around noon. He was dressed as Nathaniel, except he hadn't bothered with robes or a waistcoat as he usually would. He refused to use t-shirts though, even if it would be the most common for a muggle-raised boy. He'd like to keep a sliver of dignity even without his disguise.

As the situation dictated, Harry went to The Leaky Cauldron instead of his usual venue. He wasn't looking forward to this part of it, the part where every single wizard in proximity would drool their poppy-dog admiration on him for his supposed heroic deed and he had to endure it. But it had to be done. If he was careful, maybe he could use it to his advantage.

With a last deep breath and a schooling of his features into that of a nervous, insecure first-timer, Harry stepped into the tavern. Nothing happened at first, since most people didn't look up, but as Harry went up to the bar and Tom the bartender noticed him, things escalated. "Excuse me, Sir? How do I get into Diagon Alley?" Tom forces on his face, and immediately saw the scar. And then immediately decided to be the paramount of indiscretion. "Dear Merlin – You're Harry Potter!"

What followed was some of the most uncomfortable 10 minutes Harry had experienced. People fighting to shake his hand, people touching him everywhere, people _weeping_ from _joy _(I mean, who the fuck does that?). He did his best to smile, and be polite and not kill anyone. He wasn't going for overwhelmed, but instead tried to make certain people would remember him as kind and composed. That was the best impression he could hope to make as Harry Potter.

He still hadn't changed his first resolve to fool Dumbledore. Though he had gotten a long way in knowledge and magic, Harry was realistic enough to realize that he would be no match for the manipulative old coot. If Dumbledore had an inkling that Harry was not on his side, he would use is fairly significant power resources to ensure that Harry had no choice but to rethink his choices. Best case scenario; Dumbledore uses his political power to gain full custody of Harry. Worst case scenario; Dumbledore realizes that Harry is too far gone, and uses magic to subdue him, by use of compulsion/memory charm/psychological torture. Harry really wouldn't really put anything past that man.

Thus, the necessity of being a good boy.

The moment he could, he escaped into the back Alley. Tom the barkeep opened the doorway for him, and Harry hurried into the crowd, wanting to put those behind him who knew who he was. Think of the riot if _everyone_ on Diagon Alley were to be made aware of his presence. Luckily, his size was a help. The few who had followed him out from the tavern soon lost sight of him, and Harry could finally concentrate on getting his shopping done.

He was tempted to start with the wand. He'd wanted a proper Ollivanders wand for quite some time now, and was more than curious to see what sort of wand would pick him. On the other hand, the most sensible thing would be to start with Gringotts and work his way down the supply list. Especially as he could presume Dumbledore or one of his minions would be checking with the shop owners later, to hear about Harry's shopping trip. Yes, Gringotts first. Otherwise there would be no explanation to how he got his money.

The restrictions on his vault were theoretically still there. Dumbledore would think so anyway, but this was one thing Harry would have to live with him questioning. Though the Goblins had orders from Dumbledore not to let Harry access his trust fund without an authorized adult, they had gone against those several years ago. It was a small matter to ask them not to tell Dumbledore that when he came asking now. Hopefully Dumbledore would just believe that the goblins themselves had made the decision based on a bit of bloodmagic confirmation, and not that Harry had any plans to oppose him.

With his purse once again filled, Harry proceeded to buy his Hogwarts supplies. He picked up a few extra things, knowing that he wouldn't be able to explain his extensive knowledge of the Wizarding world without at least having some books to blame it on. And he really wanted a good trunk with some severe privacy charms. Nothing strange in that, right?

He was done fairly quickly. He knew all the shops by heart, and saw no reason to linger. Especially since he would appreciate having the time to do some shopping as Nathaniel too. He saved the wand for last, after studiously _not _purchasing any of the allowed pets. If he were ever to buy a pet, it would be a snake not a _toad_. And owls were available for borrowing at Hogwarts, so why on Earth would he spend money and time on getting his own? He did stay in the Owl Emporium long enough to pay a couple of sickles to get his reply to the acceptance letter sent.

Ollivander's shop was silent as the grave. The man wasn't anywhere to be seen, but Harry sensed him somewhere in the shop. He decided to settle down for waiting, as opposed to revealing that he knew someone was there. Hopefully Ollivander would be along at some point.

Only 30 seconds later, the man came swooping around the corner on a sliding ladder. Harry didn't startle, though he supposed that had been the point of the stunt. He didn't much like the man, finding him overly dramatic; a point that was proven throughout the search for Harry's wand. Ollivander kept commenting and muttering to himself.

When Harry finally got the right reaction out of one of the wands, Ollivander was overly excited, and it took far too much effort to get him to move along from the dramatic pauses and ominous words to the actual point. When he did though, Harry had a hard time containing his own excitement. He didn't know what it meant to have brother wands, but his interest in you-know-who – later proven to go by the name of Voldemort – hadn't at all diminished over the years. Having a connection to the man was very promising indeed.


	14. Announcement

**Announcement**

Hello everyone.

It's been quite a while since any of you heard from me, and I'm sorry, but I've been caught up in life and other developments. I primarily use Archive of our Own now (author name Propriety_is_not_a_Priority for those who want to know), and my recent fanfic has all been either Sherlock, Supernatural or Hannibal NBC. Plus that cute little Avengers one-shot that got its home here.

To put it bluntly, I really don't like the quality of this fic. The plot is alright, but I started it about a month after my 15th birthday, and let us be honest - it shows.

SO, after regaining my enthusiasm for Harry Potter quite recently (on that note please recommend me new long-fic, I haven't read much HP the last several years) and having felt like a new start, I've finally decided that I am going to do a complete rewrite of this fic.

I'm not going to start posting until I've edited all that was previously written, so you aren't going to hear from me for a while. But, for once, you can rest easy in the knowledge that there's actually something happening at my end. I swore I was going to finish this, that I wouldn't be one of those authors that leave a great story to rot and the readers to sob pitifully. And I always keep my promises ;)

This is going to be great - I'm older, I'm smarter and I have a much better understanding of sex. Look forward to that part.

I will in the future be posting this story both here on ff and on ao3, since I don't want to force you guys to move.

Looking forward to sharing this adventure with you (again)!


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